Silence Speaks
by pelespen
Summary: “What do you suppose will happen now that the Pan has decided to grow up?” he asked wryly. A Sirius/Hermione story about growing up at any age. Lemons later. Please read responsibly.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings/Notes:** Explicit smut for later chapters, language. Originally started as a series of shorts for a prompt fest I ran last year. This first chapter is pretty much a proper clean-up and merging of those. New content to follow very soon! Many, many thanks to calistokerrigan and jadecharmer for being their usual awesome selves and giving good feedback and beta.  
**Disclaimer:** I neither own, nor profit from the use of material by Rowling, Scholastic, or J.M. Barrie. Everyone having sex is of the legal age to do so, this time.

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~1~

_What a boring, swotty, stick in the mud. Just look at her…_

As if sensing his eyes on her, Hermione slowly looked up from her book, still slightly flushed from the passage she'd been reading. She couldn't help but smirk, knowing that everyone else _thought_ she was engrossed in a book about alchemy, _him_ included.

Without thinking, her gaze traveled over the wizard lounging in a large chair in the corner. His legs, long and muscular, were casually spread in a way that looked rude when most men did it. On him, it just lent itself to a sort of unintentional aristocratic air he had. She knew it was unintentional, because he seemed to go out of his way to thumb his nose at society's expectations him, being the last heir of the wizarding world's oldest pureblood family.

As her eyes skimmed his chest, she unconsciously licked her lips. _Merlin,_ she wondered distractedly, _what in the hell is he _doing_ to himself to look like that?_ Even from across the room, she could see his abdominal muscles through the thin material of his tee shirt.

Hermione shook her head inwardly and blushed, burying her nose in her book again. _No wizard his age should be allowed to look like that!_ she thought with a heated amusement.

Sirius' pulse kicked into a higher tempo as he observed the house know-it-all practically undressing him with her eyes. _What the fuck was that all about?_ he wondered, more concerned with the effect it had on him than the fact that his godson's best friend just gave him a long, hard ogling. _How old was she, again?_ Not that he'd ever touch it, but he didn't think someone so young would, _could_ be capable of so much _sex_ in one simple look. Oh, alright, so plenty of birds younger than her had ogled him harder in the past. But coming from _her?_ And the way she'd licked her lips… _Oh, Circe…_

"…at least that's what Sirius claimed he said," Harry's voice seeped into his train of thought.

Sirius glanced up to see half the room looking at him expectantly.

_Fuck._

His eyes flicked over to the brunette witch curled up in the corner of his couch, her attention still firmly held between the pages of a book.

_What in the bloody hell is so interesting about ancient Alchemy?_ he thought irritably, scowling just in time for her to glance back up at him with a quirked eyebrow. She shifted then, her bare, slender legs unfolding from under her, the natty, oversized cut-off sweatpants she wore bunching up over her thighs. A patch of skin, pale and inviting, peeked out from just above the waistband as her shirt rode up slightly. Something in his gut twitched, as if someone had thrown a lit match at his insides, a hot, tiny burn, biting quickly and leaving behind a ghost of a sting. He needed to get out of there. Now. With a small cough, he stood suddenly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I have to…" He motioned vaguely at the doorway before exiting the room, leaving Harry, Remus, Tonks, and the small crowd of Weasleys in a cloud of confusion.

_Bloody fucking genius witch probably didn't miss a thing, though,_ he growled silently as he stomped up the stairs to his room.

~o~

The next morning, Sirius meandered groggily into his kitchen, eyes bleary from a little more alcohol than was necessary the night before. He blinked in surprise at the redheaded witch who appeared to be waiting expectantly for him at his kitchen table.

"Ginny," he mumbled, hiding his irritation behind a yawn as he reached into the cupboard for a coffee mug.

"H-hi, Sirius," the young witch greeted. "Sorry – I know it's early, but I wanted to catch you before I had to be to work…"

"Mm," Sirius grunted with a nod as he started a pot of coffee, intentionally making her wait. Whatever the little bint wanted, it sure as hell did not take priority over his caffeine.

When he finally dragged his chair noisily across the stone floor and dropped down into it, coffee in one hand and a slab of toast in another, he looked at the youngest Weasley directly.

"So. To what do I owe this rare pleasure?" he asked, barely masking his sarcasm behind tolerant politeness.

It wasn't that he disliked the girl, but Sirius was not a morning person on a good day, and this was not a good day. Not when his first waking thought was the recollection of brunette curls and a pouty little mouth belonging to the brainy witch one floor down from him. Damned little jezebel had even snuck her way into his dreams. _What the bloody fuck was wrong with him?_ Sirius bit back a snarl and tried to focus on the freckled redhead who was stammering and babbling at him from across his kitchen table.

"…and I don't want to be too forward with him, but I think, you know, with the war and everything, maybe he just doesn't know how to make the next move, and well, I was wondering if you could help…"

Sirius blinked. "What?"

Ginny gave a miserable whine and closed her eyes, her face flushing in that telltale shade of Weasley crimson. "Please don't make me repeat it. You're the only one who probably has any useful advice…"

Realization dawned on Sirius. _Harry… of course_. Then, horror sunk in. Ginny had come to _him_ for romantic (or worse) advice on his godson?

"Ginny," he began delicately, "don't you think this is something better discussed with… well, with someone else - " _dear Merlin, anyone else_, " - another witch, perhaps?"

Ginny gave a frustrated huff. "You're the only one with any useful experience who's not related to me, Sirius!"

"Now, that's not true," he insisted in as calm a tone as he could. He really needed to get this silly child out of his kitchen. The morning had become far too weird, far too quickly.

"No? Who, then? Remus?"

Sirius snorted and nearly choked on his coffee. She had a point there. He could just see his friend's reaction now…

"Ginny, I'm not having this conversation with you, love," he said with finality. "Harry is my godson, and you are far too easily young enough to be my daughter! Haven't you tried talking to one of your friends from school or – or work? What about Fleur?"

"NO." Ginny said, clearly horrified. "I'd never hear the end of it! And honestly, this is Harry we're talking about – the way gossip gets around… _please_, Sirius?"

"Ask Hermione," he suggested through a mouthful of food, shrugging.

"_Hermione?_" the young witch snorted. "As if she'd know anything about the opposite sex!"

Sirius couldn't even begin to understand the sudden stab of defensiveness he felt at Ginny's derisive tone. The girl had a point, after all. And hadn't he just been mentally raking the little know-it-all over the coals last night? He swallowed the suddenly tasteless wad of toast in his mouth before forcing his lips into a Sirius-patented smirk.

"Well," he said wryly, "I'm sure she'd at least have something in one of her books, anyway."

"Oh, sure," Ginny retorted, "probably a library's worth of medical terms and scientific explanations – trying to talk to her about sex would be like speaking in two different languages!"

Sirius gave a short laugh, not at the young witch's attempt at snark, but because she clearly didn't realize that she'd just insulted her own intelligence.

A movement at the doorway caught his attention, and he felt his stomach turn at the sight of the witch in question, her hair still sleep-bedraggled, a look of uncensored hurt in her soft brown eyes. Without a word, she turned on her heel and exited the kitchen.

_Fuck._

"Ginny, I think you'd better go now," Sirius said softly.

~o~

A low wolf-whistle greeted her as she descended the stairs. Her lips curled smugly.

"Granger danger," Fred teased, although his tone was thick with appreciation. "I never realized you had such… legs. What's the occasion? Big date?"

Hermione glanced around the sitting room at the group of wizards lounging in their regular spots, her eyes purposefully avoiding those of the black-haired man of the house. She gave a small shrug and smirked.

"Date," she corrected coolly. "I'll let you know if it's 'big' later," she added in a tone thick with double meaning, before she continued down the front hallway to the door.

"Oi!" George called after her. "Don't we get to meet the lucky bloke? You know, make sure he's not some lecherous snake?"

"As if anyone could be a more lecherous snake than you," Hermione sang back, as she slipped her purse over her shoulder and stepped out onto the front stoop, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Her lips immediately turned downward into a sneer and she rolled her eyes silently. Oh, it was such a shock to actually see she could be attractive, was it? They all saw her as some sexless, prudish, virginal little swot, especially _him._ Well, they knew _nothing._

Squaring her shoulders, she decided a walk would cool her temper before her date with the boy from her favourite record store. Straightening her wrap, she headed off towards the Muggle pub seven streets over from Grimmauld Place.

Five minutes later, the front door opened and Sirius Black exited, intent on a drink and some quiet away from the off-colour debate that was currently going on regarding one bushy-haired brunette and her love life, or lack thereof. As if any of them did any better.

He took a deep, calming breath and caught her familiar scent, practically seeing it in his mind's eye in a trail down the front steps and across the street. Without even thinking, he followed his impulse and shifted, tracking the smell of jasmine and honey and _Hermione_ down one street to another.

Sirius wasn't even certain why he was following her, and didn't give it that much thought until he found himself outside the doorway of _The Mangy Cur_, a Muggle drinking establishment. He smirked inwardly as he skulked around the corner to a dark alleyway and shifted back into human form.

_Just making sure she's safe_, he rationalized, even as the truth floated to the surface of his mind. Well, two truths, actually. One, being the fact that she'd ignored him completely for the last five days straight, ever since she'd overheard his conversation with that stupid little redheaded chit in his kitchen. She'd ignored him, and yet she seemed to be dangling some kind of carrot in front of him all the same. He wouldn't call it flaunting, but she'd definitely made less effort to hide that curvaceous little body from him. He hadn't seen those ratty old gym sweats in a week, and they seemed to have been replaced with more feminine and slightly more revealing lounge clothes. Little cotton girl shorts and lacy camisoles… It was driving him batshit mad, which betrayed an even less comfortable truth – he actually missed the mouthy little know-it-all, and worse yet – he _wanted_ her.

The second-most immediate truth, however, was that he somewhat agreed with the boys back at the house – she was too overdressed, looked too damned delectable. So much so, that he suspected there actually _was_ no "date," but that she was trying to prove a point.

And, if he was right on that second count, he finally had her cornered. A beautiful opportunity – drinks, seclusion, and a gorgeous, brainy, albeit angry, witch awaited him on the other side of those worn wooden doors. Sirius straightened his leather jacket with an arrogant shrug, flipped the glossy black hair out of his eyes, and strutted inside. Their little game of cat and mouse was about to end right here, and he was looking forward to educating Miss Granger on just who was the cat and who was the mouse.

It took only a moment for his eyes to find her. Well, her legs, actually. They were crossed in an alluring slant, the tall, dangerously skinny heel of one of her shoes hooked into the bottom rung of her barstool.

Sirius smirked. _Some hot date,_ he thought smugly, noting that she sat alone at the end of the bar. He paused in fascination as she brought her hand up to her mouth and drew that sharp little tongue across the cleft of her thumb and forefinger, before sprinkling the moist spot with salt. His smirk spread into an endeared smile as she sucked the salt away, then threw back half a shot glass of golden liquid without so much as a wince.

_Never would have taken her for a tequila drinker,_ he thought, amused.

His mind went numb, however, as she brought the small green wedge of lime to her mouth, wrapping her lips over the succulent tart flesh just as her teeth squeezed gently on the fruit. Then, she gingerly set the lime wedge down on the bar napkin next to her drink as she licked her lips.

Sirius, in turn, licked _his_ lips hungrily.

_Bloody fucking hell – get a grip on yourself, old man,_ he said silently with a small shake of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a table full of young Muggle women staring at him as if he were dinner, and he smirked, feeling the strut return to his step as he approached the bar.

"Well, well, well," he murmured as he slid onto the barstool next to Hermione. "Tequila?"

Hermione, who had been mid-swallow of the second half of her shot, choked and spluttered, her eyes streaming. She waved her hand in front of her face and grabbed a napkin from the canister on the bar.

Sirius raised his eyebrow at the bartender and motioned for two more tequilas while she got her bearings.

"_Sirius? _What the bloody hell are you doing here?" she hissed, looking around frantically. "You can't be here – I have a d - "

"Date," he finished for her in a knowing tone. "I know, I know. I just thought I'd come keep you company until your 'date' showed up."

"NO," she said loudly, her face flushing even redder now. "Absolutely not! I have spent far too long playing Wendy to you and your - your 'Lost Boys,' I will not have you rui-"

"_Lost Boys_? What does that mean? And who is Wendy?" he asked with a flippant chuckle as he brought the glass of tequila to his lips.

"Oh…. _never mind!_" Hermione huffed angrily. "Look – please… just… please leave?" she begged.

"Oh, come now, love," Sirius answered warmly, leaning towards her conspiratorially. "Your secret's safe with me. I just couldn't bear the thought of you drinking alone…"

"I am _not_ alone!" she insisted. "I have a date, and he'll be here any second and would you _please_ just - "

He interrupted her with two fingers pressed to her lips, his other hand plunking his empty shot glass on the bar. His own words, however, died briefly at the satiny soft flesh beneath his pads and the way her soft brown eyes lost focus and fluttered ever so briefly.

"Hermione," he finally managed to rasp before clearing his throat and trying again. "Hermione, I know what you're doing, love. You don't have to keep pretending. And it's alright – I won't let on to the others. But… since I am here, why don't we enjoy each other's company a bit, hmm?" He dropped his hand and exhaled, admitting out loud to the shocked brunette, "I've missed you these past few days…"

He was so wrapped up in unpeeling the clever little witch's façade, that he completely missed the look of outrage on her face that might have given him some warning of the impending eruption.

Hermione jerked away from Sirius, her heeled feet clattering on the floor as she stood suddenly. "_Pretending?_" she repeated, her cheeks flushing angrily. "So now I'm not only a sexless, prudish, dead fish who only knows about the opposite sex from books, but I'm so pathetically unattractive that I'd have to be lying if I said I had a date, is that it?" She demanded, her voice raising as she fought back the tears in her throat.

Sirius held up his hands and shook his head in placation. "Now, Hermione… love…"

"There's my Blondie girl," a familiar male voice rumbled warmly from behind her.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to center herself before turning to greet Derek the record shop boy.

"_Blondie?_" Sirius repeated incredulously, before shaking his head with an arrogant chuckle. "Son, that's the worst attem - "

"Sirius," Hermione gritted through her teeth, interrupting the cocky wizard. "This is my _date_, Derek."

Hermione paused and turned to the tall, somewhat lanky young man with sandy brown hair that was just messy enough to be fashionable. "Derek," she said, flashing him a brilliant smile, "this is my…"

Derek laughed and folded his arms across his chest as he leaned into the bar. "Don't tell me you brought a chaperone, love?" he teased, his blue eyes dancing merrily.

"I don't know - is she going to need one?" Sirius growled menacingly.

Hermione let out a helpless sigh and fervently wished for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

"Easy, old man," Derek laughed outright. "What are you, her father?"

"Sirius." Hermione's voice was quiet, but her tone of warning cut through the air like an Unforgivable. "Go. Home."

When she looked up at the black-haired wizard, she was shocked at the fierce expression in his eyes – anger mixed with that ridiculous male arrogance that was on a clear path to some humiliating pissing match. But there was also something else as his grey gaze zeroed in on her. It looked like a brief flash of – hurt? She was certain she'd imagined it, however, as a split-second later he gave her a hateful sneer.

"Fine, _Blondie girl,_" he snarled before turning on his heel and striding through the bar and out into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

~2~

Hermione walked slowly, her head bent in contemplation even as she kept a careful awareness of her surroundings. The cool damp air of London wrapped its fingers around her and she pulled her cloak tighter, draping the loose hood over her hair. She was glad she'd thought to bring it, magically shrunken and stowed safely in her purse until her date with Derek had come to its early end.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head to herself for what was probably the twentieth time that evening. She'd known the date was going to be a bust, even without Sirius' meddlesome, pompous, and presumptuous little visit. Derek, with his trendy looks and flippant personality, had never seemed to be her type. And yet he'd hounded her repeatedly to go out until she'd finally caved, thinking perhaps there was more to him than she thought. Unfortunately, there _was_ more to him – as soon as he'd gotten her alone, he'd turned into a multi-tentacle groping machine that rivaled Cormac McLaggen both in persistence and lack of style.

Hermione gave a small huff and tossed her head as the scene of their date's end played over in her head. She wagered she probably had a few days to still shop at that record store before Derek would be able to go in to work again. _Without the use of magic, no less_, Hermione thought with a proud chuckle.

Her smile dropped and her eyebrows knit into a frown as she rounded the corner, however. She stopped in her tracks, looking at the space between number eleven and number thirteen, Grimmauld Place, too far away from the old house for the Fidelius charm to recognize her and reveal its secret residence.

Her stomach was still twisted into a knot over the dark-haired owner of the house. She was hurt, angry, humiliated, and disappointed in him. What an utter fool she'd been. People frequently regarded Sirius as a spoiled, arrogant, self-entitled prat with no interest in women except for the value of an easy shag. She'd refused to buy into that image, however, no matter how hard he worked to maintain it.

Upon his return, the charges against him having long been cleared and his estate re-directed back into his own name, he'd made perfectly clear that he was done trying to please others. He'd made a rather public point numerous times that his restored life was going to be spent as hedonistically as possible.

She couldn't say she blamed him, really. Except when his lifestyle of pleasure managed to bleed over on to others, and usually with disastrous results. After all, most other people _did_ have responsibilities, jobs, relationships, children…

_…Except you,_ a sullen little voice in her head amended.

For the past year and a half, she'd been working a desk job at the Ministry until she figured out what she truly wanted. Since the war had ended, everyone else seemed to have some kind of goal – careers, relationships, the beginnings of new families, but surprisingly enough, not her. Without exams or a dark cloud of evil waiting to be confronted, the brilliant and headstrong Hermione Granger had, for once in her life, totally floundered.

She stood out there for how long, she couldn't say. Even when the cool damp air turned to mist, then drizzle, then a soft rain, she remained, standing and staring unhappily at the rusted iron fence that ran along the front of the houses of Grimmauld Place.

_Why was she even staying there?_ she wondered, angry with herself more than anything. She'd contemplated moving out many times, perhaps using her award gold from being a "war hero" to tour the world and make a decision once and for all. She actually almost had moved out, but then Sirius had returned, and she'd put it off once again. Why that had any bearing on her life's choices, she had no idea. No, that wasn't quite true. He'd asked her to stay, asked all of them to, but his invitation had surprised her nonetheless.

_What a complete and total idiot I am,_ Hermione thought, scowling. Because she knew, deep down, the reason she'd stayed so long was that she'd been waiting for Sirius to grow up. She'd been living in that house with Peter Pan and his "Lost Boys" for over a year now, and the big ugly truth was that she'd been secretly hoping and waiting for that pompous and obnoxious prat to grow up.

_Grow up and do what, though?_ It wasn't as if he'd ever give _her_ the time of day – he'd made it more than clear particularly this past week what a pathetic and unattractive little swot he thought she was.

"Hermione?"

She gasped and whirled around, her wand drawn before her eyes even registered the wizard standing before her.

"Sorry," Sirius mumbled, not meeting her gaze.

Hermione lowered her hand and took in the pathetic sight before her. His black hair was like polished ebony, plastered to his face in spots, and his clothes were soaked through. His usual careless grin was completely absent, and his voice sounded tired, resigned, and old.

"No – I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Old habits, I guess."

"It's a good habit to keep. Just getting back from your big date, then?" he asked in a flat voice.

_Damn it, why can't I stay mad at him?_ she wondered. In her defense, though, he looked so… _sad_…

"No, actually," she answered truthfully. "It ended quite early. Are you alright, Sirius? Why are you out here so late?"

He finally raised his gaze to her eyes, his grey depths remorseful. "I just needed a walk. Too many thoughts," he replied.

They stood there for an awkward moment, not speaking, getting more and more soaked. Hermione fought the compulsion to apologize. She had nothing to apologize _for_, she kept reminding herself.

"I'm sorry if I ruined your date," Sirius finally said.

Hermione frowned slightly, and wondered why she felt suddenly annoyed. _Oh,_ she remembered.

"Ruining my date is hardly why you should be apologizing, Sirius," she answered tersely, feeling her anger flare up again as she remembered every harsh and unkind assumption he'd had about her. Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the hidden house across the street.

She had just reached the walkway to Number Twelve when her arm was roughly grabbed and she was jerked back, stumbling into the solid wall of Sirius' chest. His hands steadied her as he turned her around to face him.

Hermione made to pull away but his grip tightened as his stormy eyes searched her face with a look that caused her heart to skip a beat before she shook herself into reality.

"Sirius, what do you think you're d - "

Her protestations were cut short by a kiss as sudden and earth shattering as lightning. His hands held her, cupped around the sides of her neck, his thumbs stroking her jaw line as his mouth claimed hers.

All thoughts fled as Hermione's world was reduced to lips that were both powerful and slow, dancing over hers, coaxing and tasting, pleading and demanding all at once. Her hands should have shoved him away so she could reclaim any shred of sensibility, but they only slid hungrily over the damp material stretched across his chest. When his tongue teased along her lower lip, she granted him access with a whimper. Raindrops mingled with the taste of him – coffee and cinnamon, not firewhisky like she'd always imagined.

When they finally parted, he pressed his thumb to her mouth to quiet her, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath.

"I – I'm sorry, love. I… Look, I can't fucking speak right around you, damn it. I always fuck it up. So can't we just shut the fuck up and let our actions speak instead?" he said desperately, his voice rough, dark, and sweet like salted caramel.

His other thumb was softly stroking the spot below her ear that, oddly, was never a weakness before now, his long fingers tangling in her wet hair. Suddenly none of it mattered – the ridiculous assumptions on either of their parts, the misunderstandings… all the mattered was this man who was now kissing away all of the stray raindrops from her face.

_Let our actions speak instead…_

Gently, Hermione brought her hands up to Sirius' wrists, holding them and pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. She'd seen that look so many times, but it was always fleeting – glances across the parlour when no one was looking, over tea in the kitchen, when he'd poke his head into the study to quietly inform her that dinner was ready… It was a look that implied something was there on the tip of his tongue, wanting to be said, but always choked back.

She nodded in reply.

"It's getting cold, though. We both need to dry off," she murmured, tugging him toward the front steps of the house.

"I'll make tea," he rumbled softly as they crept over the threshold.

"You'll get out of those wet clothes first," Hermione answered without thinking. The slow, suggestive grin that spread over his face as he turned to her made her cheeks fill with warmth as she realized what she'd just said. Her heart tripped around her chest like a drunken pony as she also realized that suggestive look was for _her._ She licked her lips nervously.

"I will if you will, princess," Sirius purred teasingly, before leaning in and kissing her temple sweetly. "I'll meet you in the kitchen," he said, and gave her hand a squeeze, pulling her up the staircase to her bedroom before continuing to his own.

~o~

Hermione looked around her room desperately, not quite sure what to change into. She had a sexy negligee or two left over from her last rather short-lived relationship. But that would look incredibly obvious and presumptuous. Still, she wanted to be at least somewhat appealing, "just in case." She finally settled on a pair of satin pajama pants and a simple tank top with tiny lace trimmings, over which she donned her fluffy blue bathrobe to ward off the wet chill from the rain.

She paused at the doorway of her bedroom. _What if this was all some bizarre misunderstanding, or worse yet – some weird, sick joke?_ Her lips still felt tingly and slightly swollen from being so thoroughly kissed just minutes ago. But a fantastic snogging didn't explain away the fact that Sirius had basically implied she was some desperate, unattractive little…

_No._ Hermione shook her head at herself. She _wasn't_ desperate, _or_ unattractive. She sure as hell wasn't some sexless nerd like Ginny Weasley had implied. And if Sirius Black found that idea funny, well he had another think coming. Just because she didn't slag around or publicize her sex life… She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin before turning the old glass knob and stepping out into the hallway, braced for anything.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her bare feet silent against the cool, old wood of the floorboards, she saw that Sirius was already in the parlour, two steaming mugs set out on the low table before the sofa. He was crouched before the fire, stoking it with an ancient andiron.

Hermione swallowed hard at the sight of his bare torso, the muscles in his back flexing as he poked at the coals in the fireplace. She really _did_ wonder what the bloody hell he did to look so… _delectable_ was the word that came to mind before she cringed at herself and shook her head.

Still, it didn't stop her eyes from following that gorgeous slope of back down to his bum, clearly firm and quite grab-worthy even through the loose black silk of his pajama bottoms.

She faltered, feeling suddenly rather frumpy in her bathrobe and pajamas, her doubts and insecurities weighing on her shoulders like her rain-soaked cloak. She debated turning around and creeping back upstairs and pretending like none of this was real.

As if hearing her thoughts, Sirius turned and caught her eye. He said nothing but stood, giving her a dangerous smirk as he crooked his finger at her, beckoning. When she stepped into the old formal room that had become the regular household gathering place, the door slid shut behind her on its own.

Hermione felt her cheeks burn under Sirius' heated scrutiny as he watched her every step, his grey eyes smoldering as if he could see through every thread of fabric that covered her body. When she was within arms' reach of him, she stopped and waited expectantly, but for what she wasn't certain. When he merely smiled at her, she opened her mouth to speak, but once more he stopped her with his fingers pressed to her lips. She gave a shiver as he lightly traced her mouth with his gaze as well as his touch before handing her a cup of tea and motioning to the couch nearest the fireplace.

Once she was settled in, he sat down on the floor at her feet, looking up at her through a fringe of midnight black lashes. Still, he didn't speak, but sipped at his tea. Hermione followed suit, smiling to herself as she realized that Sirius always knew exactly how she liked her tea. There was a small canister of dark brown sugar she kept hidden away in the pantry, and she supposed he'd seen her sneak it out one night when she was making a cup of vanilla spiced tea for herself. Whenever it was his turn to make tea, he'd made hers that way for… how long?

Just like her toast in the mornings, blackened a bit more than anyone else's. And the fact that he never said 'good morning' to her until she'd had her first cup of coffee, as if he simply knew it irritated her to speak much in the mornings. Come to think of it, there were easily a dozen little things Sirius did to make her stay here comfortable. And had she ever once thanked him for it?

Hermione opened her mouth once more, but was distracted by the warm hands that suddenly wrapped themselves around her chilled feet. She looked down at him questioningly, and he merely made a soft shushing sound before setting to work, massaging her insteps that she hadn't even realized were tired and sore.

She let her eyes fall shut, her head resting against the back of the couch while his fingers performed their special magic. The only sounds that filled the room was the soft crackling of the wood in the fireplace, the muted rumble of rain on the roof, and the occasional random noises of the old house settling in for the night.

When he finally stopped, she opened her eyes again to see him smiling sheepishly, flexing his hands with a shrug.

"… "

_What the hell - ?_

Hermione's eyes widened as she tried once more to speak, to thank Sirius. But nothing came out. She nudged at him with her foot, motioning to her throat in alarm, but he merely smirked and reached over to the table behind him before handing her a small piece of parchment.

_Tired of miscommunications. Until I can make you understand, __no words._

Anger flared in her as she realized he'd cast some sort of spell over her. She set her cup of tea on the side table with a loud _thump_ before rising from the couch, only to be pushed back down again as Sirius rose to his knees in front of her.

After a few humiliating moments of mouthing angrily and gesticulating, Hermione felt the infuriating sting of tears in her eyes. A strong rough hand gently grabbed her chin and forced her to look into those slate coloured eyes. She could see the flecks of blue and gold even now in the soft light of the fire.

Sirius shook his head at her, his other hand gently stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers before he leaned in and tenderly brushed his lips across hers. He didn't deepen the kiss, but pulled away slightly, his eyes searching her face with a silent plea. He took a deep breath and held one of her hands, pressing it to the intricate lines of faded ink on the left side of his chest. His gaze was intense, as if willing her to understand what he was trying to communicate.

Hermione inhaled sharply at the touch of his bare skin beneath her fingertips. The soft, steady thump of his heart against her hand was even more intimate than the feel of his flesh. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but she was anchored by those darkening silver irises that seemed to penetrate her soul.

There was a question there, something perhaps neither of them could put words to, even if they could speak. Yet she knew the answer. Her fingers curled slightly, pressing against him possessively as she gave a slow, understanding nod.

The leather of the large, overstuffed sofa creaked noisily as Sirius guided Hermione to lay on her back, his eyes never leaving hers. As he sat on the edge of the cushion, his hip flush against hers, his gaze drifted over her face and hair, flitting down over her body and back up again. He raised his hand to her cheek and traced a path over her eyebrow, down her temple, across her jaw, to her lips, and down her neck before tangling his fingers in her unruly curls.

His kiss this time was purposeful, deliberate. Hermione shivered as his breath whispered across her lips, nudging them apart with teasing nips, then sampling them so slowly and sweetly she thought she might cry.

This was like nothing she'd ever expected from Sirius. Or any wizard, for that matter. Despite her impatience with him, she'd had her fair share of fantasies about him. She'd always imagined he'd be incredibly passionate, fiery, and extremely skilled as a lover. But this - ?

As he pulled away with that questioning look in his eyes, she realized he was actually _speaking_ to her with his actions. The way his one hand gently cradled her neck, even as his fingers had wrapped themselves possessively into her hair… and how his other hand found hers, his thumb stroking the back of her knuckles, reassuring and tender, yet asking… asking… _asking what?_

She frowned slightly and looked up at him, realizing he was watching her intently, a spark of amusement flickering in his expression. He raised an eyebrow and released her hand to finger the opening of her bathrobe.

_Oh – that._

Hermione leaned up and wriggled her way out of the thick, blue, voluminous sleeves, smirking at the older wizard as she lay back on the lump of discarded robe. He smiled in return, giving a wry nod before his face fell into a solemn regard.

The brief flutter of uncertainty she felt melted under his adoring scrutiny as she watched his gaze travel pointedly over her bare shoulders and arms and up again, plunging with a mischievous leer to where her thin tank top had stretched a bit lower than originally intended. She rolled her eyes at him teasingly, and he grinned as he gave her chin a playful bite, his body shaking with a silent chuckle.

_Merlin,_ she thought, her breath catching as his face lit up. She had _never_ seen a more genuine, easy smile cross his face. She'd covertly watched him since his return and even before then, during the summer before their fifth year. He had his special smile for Harry – heartfelt and warm, but always tinged with melancholy. And he had what she called his "Marauder" persona – the prankster, quick-witted and filthy-minded, and always amusing. But she hadn't realized before now how much he'd been holding back. _He's beautiful,_ she thought, awed.

Hermione realized she must have had a startled look on her face, as Sirius' grin softened and he tentatively brushed the hair out of her eyes. She reached up, cupping his rough, stubble-covered jaw, and took the opportunity to freely admire his face: the slightly weathered surface over perfectly chiseled bones, the small crinkles surrounding the ocean depths of his eyes, his indecent black lashes contrasting with strong, thick brows - as well as the little imperfections – the scar that cut into the edge of one eyebrow, the creases on either side of his mouth from years of dimples, the almost too-full and slightly uneven curves of his lips, the almost imperceptible dip in his chin...

_Beautiful,_ she thought again, but she realized it wasn't just his physical features. It was what she could see in those eyes… his _spirit_… Suddenly Hermione realized that even if speech were possible, words would fail the level of emotion she felt for this beautiful soul above her.

Slowly, she leaned up as she slipped her fingers down the muscled column of his neck and around to fist those silky black waves of hair. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his uniquely delicious scent – the one that always lingered on the old leather jacket hung next to hers on the hallway hooks. He'd let her borrow his scarf once – that may very well have been the day she'd caved and admitted to herself her attraction to Sirius Black. And here she was now, in his arms, brushing her lips across his, lazily drinking in the heart-clenching experience of such a small thing.

He stilled for a moment, almost as if listening to a secret whispered under a breath. Then, as Hermione slowly bit down on his bottom lip, soothing it with her tongue, a hungry sigh escaped him. He lowered his body over hers, smoothing one hand down her body as his other arm kept his weight from crushing her into the couch cushions.

The slow experimental tango of their lips and tongues quickly increased into a hard, demanding frenzy. Perhaps tomorrow she would curse her foolish and gullible heart, because certainly she should be practicing more care than this. And yet, with every kiss, every silent sigh, their breaths intermingling, limbs tangling as their fingers tried frantically to feel and give… Hermione felt all sense of caution wither like parchment to flame until it was forgotten, lost to the night as prudence and thoughts of "tomorrow" went up in a silent curl of smoke.


	3. Chapter 3

_Perhaps tomorrow she would curse her foolish and gullible heart, because certainly she should be practicing more care than this. And yet, with every kiss, every silent sigh, their breaths intermingling, limbs tangling as their fingers tried frantically to feel and give… Hermione felt all sense of caution wither like parchment to flame until it was forgotten, lost to the night as prudence and thoughts of "tomorrow" went up in a silent curl of smoke._

~3~

With both hands fisted in his shaggy black hair, Hermione broke away briefly, her eyes closed and her breath coming in ragged little pants. At some point in their frenzy Sirius had situated his body completely over hers. One knee was nestled between her legs and he was balanced on his elbows, his bare chest pressed intimately against hers without crushing. Her senses were filled with him – his scent, his own breath soft and uneven against her jaw, the muscled heat that rasped her sensitive nipples with every breath and movement, and the hard evidence of his want pressing against her thigh.

_Sirius…_ she moaned silently as he nuzzled her neck just below her ear. Gods, how she wanted him – her sex ached with arousal, thick, hot, and heavy. Desperate to communicate her need, she shifted and arched beneath him, tugging slightly at his hair.

He eased up enough to look down at her, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. Then he slowly rolled them both over and onto the floor with a gentle _thump_. This resulted in Hermione straddling the older wizard, his hardness nestled against the juncture of her thighs, teasing between two very thin layers of fabric. She felt a groan rumble in his chest through her fingertips, even though he didn't make a sound.

Smirking at the advantage their new position gave her, Hermione let her fingers slowly dance over tattooed lines and scars. How many glances of his bared chest had she stolen as he'd wandered shirtless around his house? Sirius Black was beautiful, that fact was irrefutable - the entire female wizarding population was in unanimous agreement there. But now, just for tonight, he was _hers_ to have. It was a heady realization, and rather than worry as she should about the consequences, Hermione's only thought at that moment was to steal the experience while it was in her grasp. His cock twitched against her as her touch ghosted over his nipples. She saw the rise and fall of his gorgeous chest grow uneven with silent gasps and she smiled, catlike, before leaning down to replace fingertips with lips, teeth, and tongue.

This lasted for all of a minute before Sirius grasped her by the waist and flipped her onto her back in one deft move. There was no smile on his face this time as he looked down at her. Instead, his gaze was all intensity and heat, the muscles in his jaw visibly twitching as he clenched his teeth. When Hermione reached up to curl a hand behind his neck, he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. Then, with a shake of his head, he lowered her arm and gently pinned her wrist against the hardwood floor. She watched as his charcoal eyes pointedly traveled from her face, slowly down the length of her body, then back up again. Then, his gaze never leaving hers, his free hand traced the same path, a worshipful caress from face to hip using only the backs of his knuckles. _Let me show you..._

Swallowing against the sudden pounding in her chest, Hermione nodded. Sirius responded by sliding his fingers under the hem of her top, his eyelids fluttering almost imperceptibly as his hand smoothed over the soft flesh of her stomach. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry with anticipation. A tiny grimace pulled at her eyebrows as he slowly explored her body, gently tickling along her waist, barely brushing the undersides of her breasts. And still her eyes were riveted, held in place by his in their silent communication.

Frustrated with the too-polite (or perhaps merely teasing) advances of his touch, Hermione grasped Sirius' wrist with her free hand, stopping him with a small frown. Her lips pressed together briefly before she sucked the bottom one between her teeth in consternation. Then, wriggling beneath him and freeing her other hand, she leaned up enough to pull the flimsy camisole-style tank top over her head, tossing it behind her.

A crooked and sinful smile danced across Sirius' lips. His look was sheer hunger as he admired her bared torso, and she felt a molten heat trickle through her nerves in response. It surprised Hermione to realize that by naught but looks and actions, he was able to assuage the countless little insecurities that usually came with this sort of intimacy. There was no finding the right words or making the right breathy moan, or wondering why he was silent or what he was thinking, because it was all right there in front of her.

Of course, these thoughts quickly slipped to the wayside as warm, slightly rough hands smoothed up her waist to cup her breasts. Her sharp inhale seemed unnaturally loud when his thumbs grazed her nipples.

_More,_ Hermione tried to say, arching into Sirius' touch again. Thankfully he seemed to understand and she was rewarded with the deliciously slow, hard pinching and rolling of his fingers, sending jolts from her sensitive peaks to her core. Then fingers gave way to his mouth and her head fell back to the floor, her eyes fluttering shut as he alternately teased and soothed first one, then the other. She threaded her fingers into his hair, softly scratching the back of his neck and urging him on.

For one heavenly moment, with her eyes closed and her whimpers and moans muted, Hermione's world was dominated by feeling, peppered only with the raw sounds of their movements. The faint, moist _pop_ as Sirius' lips released her nipple, the slow sweet drag of his tongue across her collar bone accompanied by the soft slither of flesh and silk, and the constant, uneven rasp of their breaths filled the room and her senses.

She turned her head, still cradling him to her as his mouth found her neck. Sharp little nips alternated with sweet, apologetic kisses, blazing a path to her ear and sending shivers down her spine. When Sirius nibbled his way along her jaw back to her mouth, Hermione met his kiss with a fierceness that surprised even her. Violent, hard, demanding, then soft and tender, teasing, then hard again – lips and teeth and tongue, stroking, sucking, and sometimes barely touching, breathing – they simply _kissed_ for what felt like a long, divine forever.

And then there was touch itself – Hermione slid her hands hungrily from Sirius' neck over his shoulders and down his chest. The ridges of his muscles, the light sprinkling of coarse hair, the imperfections of his flesh felt real and true under her fingers. _Sirius Black - _a man who'd been through so much, who'd experienced and felt so much… the feelings she'd harboured for him really had so little to do with any sort of physical crush. He was the epitome of that ideal, "Carpe Diem" - always seizing the moment, living for today, and Hermione felt as though for just right now, she was drinking a little of that philosophy through her fingers and lips.

Their bodies undulated in needful curves against each other, creating a friction that left them both breathless until all too soon Sirius broke away. He gave Hermione a sly grin before easing down her body, trailing kisses and nuzzles all the way to the waistband of her pyjamma bottoms. His shoulders shook with a silent chuckle as she squirmed, ticklish to the graze of his stubble-covered chin against her waist.

When tickling turned into a slow caress of lips, however, Hermione stilled. She exhaled slowly at the feel of Sirius' hands around her ankles, sliding under the thin material up her calves. She looked down, feeling his eyes on her, and found him smirking wickedly at her as he slowly teased at the ribbon-ties of her lounge trousers with his teeth. She narrowed her eyes in a brief warning scowl before bending her legs just enough to hook her toes into _his_ waistband, jerking the silk trousers over his hips unceremoniously.

Unfortunately they snagged, prompting Sirius to kneel up with a wry quirk of an eyebrow as he pulled them back into place. Not without affording a Hermione a lovely glimpse of just where that faint trail of dark hair below his belly button led, however. She licked her lips and swallowed, her eyes trailing back up over his body to his face again to find him watching her with a smug expression. She merely smirked in response, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

Finally understanding that enough was enough, Sirius leaned forward and planted a tender kiss in the middle of her chest before cupping her hips possessively. With a gentle squeeze and a tug, he indicated for her to 'lift up.' Then, sliding down her body, he slipped her last remaining bit of clothing down her legs.

Hermione forced her gaze to remain trained on Sirius, refusing to give in to shyness or insecurity. Her beauty and value, her own sexiness, was not marked by the reactions or opinions of a man, she reminded herself. _Not even this man._

She needn't have been concerned, however. Leaning back on his heels at her feet, Sirius paused to openly admire her naked form. He bit his lower lip and smiled, shaking his head affectionately before his storm cloud eyes met hers with that look of unadulterated want. Then, leaning down, he proceeded to worship her from the tips of her toes to the tops of her thighs.

Resting her weight on bent elbows, Hermione watched Sirius work his way back up between her legs. By the time he reached her apex, she was a squirming, quivering mess inside. The sight alone of the gorgeous wizard paying such thorough homage to her flesh was highly erotic. It took every ounce of restraint she had to remain calm and (mostly) still, although her toes repeatedly curled with every delicious, tender swipe of his tongue. She unconsciously bit her lip as the possessive curve of his long fingers smoothed along the outsides of her legs, then under as she bent her knees, granting him more access. And she really was having a difficult time breathing, especially with his lips hovering just _there_…

_Why the bloody hell was he stopping?_ she wondered impatiently. Gods, she really _was_ a quivering mess…

Just then, Sirius flashed her another teasing grin, tilting his head as if questioning. Hermione's lips parted and she clenched her teeth, her frustration growing. Before she could do anything more, however, the lightest brush of fingers against her outer lips tore a sharp gasp from her throat.

_Gods… please…_ She moved into his touch – a physical plea. She was answered with a kiss to her inner thigh, and she looked down again to find him gazing pointedly at her.

With one finger, he touched his cheek just below his eye. _Watch…_ Then, his gaze unwavering, he softly brushed his lips against that aching juncture. Again and again, trailing kisses that would be almost chaste were they planted anywhere else, he tested her, silver holding brown, daring her to look away even once or he'd stop.

Her breathing had broken down into shallow panting and her fingers clawed at the expensive Oriental rug beneath her in an attempt to hang on to that last bit of control. That final thread snapped however, when, apparently satisfied that she was 'paying attention,' he gave more. His tongue, pointed and just as cunning as it was with words, slid between her moist folds in one deft swipe.

It was as if the thread broke for both of them then. Sirius' head fell briefly, his black hair brushing her neatly groomed mound as he broke eye contact. Hermione could feel his breath hot and uneven against her pussy for just a moment before his hands slid beneath her, cupping her bottom and lifting her slightly. Giving up, she fell back completely, her elbows slipping out from under her.

Then he was _there_ - his fingers spreading her, the air cool against her exposed wetness for but a second before her senses were consumed with lips and tongue and fingers in that one heavenly centre of her being.

_Oh, fuck – sweet Morgana and all that's heaven YES…_ Hermione found herself digging her fingers in that gorgeous head of hair nestled between her thighs. She pressed herself urgently against his mouth - _so close now…_

Later she would probably shake her head and maybe even blush at the recollection – she'd never been so demanding, so greedy, or so free with a lover. But Sirius only complied all too willingly. Wrapping his lips around that sweet, ever so sensitive nub of flesh and suckling, at the same time he pushed two fingers into her. Instead of the typical mimicry of sex she was used to in past experiences, however, those talented fingers began massaging a place in her no one else had ever managed to find. Harder and faster than anything she'd ever experienced, that first incredible wave of bliss tightened almost unbearably before exploding white hot, searing delightfully through her nerves.

Hermione was honestly surprised that the shriek that ripped through her throat didn't somehow break through the silencing spell. It surely would have woken the entire house, and quite possibly the neighbors on either side of them who still had no idea a "number twelve" even existed on their street.

And still, Sirius didn't stop. With every stroke of his tongue, no matter how gentle or soft, her body jerked with an odd mixture of pleasure and discomfort. Her fingers were still tangled in his mess of black waves, and she gave a little tug. This only served to encourage him, however, and she caught a glimpse of his dark gaze warning her in a brief glance before he closed his eyes and moaned as he lapped at her release. It was so strange to not hear but _feel_ that vibration, and it did interesting things to her already overloaded senses. Sooner than she would have thought, Hermione found herself moving into his motions once more, a second climax quickly swelling and rolling through her body.

This time, when she drifted back down, she laughingly shoved Sirius off of her, grinning when she realized that he, too, was shaking in silent laughter. He rolled over onto his back with a look of well-deserved smugness before darting his arm out with lightning quickness and pulling Hermione to him. Her body settled easily over his and her legs, still shaky from two wonderful orgasms so close together, fell lazily on either side of him.

Hermione's smile curved into a filthy smirk when she felt Sirius' still-present erection nestled against her through that thin layer of silk. She couldn't resist the temptation to tease, and slowly ground her rather messy bare crotch over that impressive tent of fabric. The sharp hiss of Sirius inhaling through his teeth drew her attention to his face. It was a mask of trained control, not unlike the one she may have worn just a short while ago.

Bracing her hands on either side of his chest, she leaned in, sliding her whole body against his as she moved up enough to kiss his mouth, still damp and tasting of her. Then she slid back down, trailing her lips over his neck and rocking gently into his hardness once more. Several times she repeated this motion, licking and teasing her way up, then back down again, grinning against Sirius' chest at the ragged motion of his breathing. It was the slow graze of her teeth over his right nipple that apparently broke him, and Hermione suddenly found herself on her back again with her wrists pinned to the floor.

His kiss was hard and demanding as he continued to grind himself against her through the silk of his trousers like a randy teenager. It was somewhat disconcerting to Hermione, really – the man needed to take the damned things off. _What in the bloody hell was he waiting for?_

She struggled to free her hands from his grip, failing at first until she wrapped her legs around his hips and squeezed him to her, effectively knocking him off balance enough to wriggle free. Before Sirius could make another move she found him, wrapping one hand around his erection through the thin, partially damp material. He immediately stilled, his shoulders heaving as she gently squeezed and stroked along his length.

Her other hand came up and nudged his chin, beckoning him to look at her. The look in his eyes was unreadable, but he wasn't stopping her, so she slipped her hand beneath his waistband. They both inhaled loudly when her fingers came in direct contact with his hardness.

Just the reality of him there, hot and hard and barely restrained beneath her touch sent a wave of heavy need to her core. He wasn't abnormally huge, she could tell, but he was certainly bigger than the few other wizards she'd been with, and the idea of taking him inside of her made her shiver with want. She curled her fingers around him, soft and experimental at first, just brushing across the surface of his skin. With a shaky exhale, Sirius buried his face in her neck and murmured wordlessly against her skin as he slowly thrust into her touch. _Surrender…_ His entire body spoke of it.

Running her free hand over his chest and back up to curl around his neck, Hermione turned her head to nuzzle the salty patch of flesh just below his ear. She gripped him more firmly, twisting slightly every time she reached his tip just as she'd learned – yes _learned_ from previous lovers but mostly from her "books." The thought gave her flash of inspiration – both because the part of her that was still angry and indignant wanted to prove to Sirius just how wrong he had been, but even more because she simply wanted it.

Coaxing him with her hands and mouth, Hermione finally got Sirius to roll over and lay back once more, pulling his trousers off in the process. Unconsciously mimicking his earlier moves, she paused from her vantage point between his legs, her eyes slowly traveling the length of his body in open admiration.

The man really _was_ delectable. In fact, all things considered, she'd have to say Sirius was the most "man" she'd ever had the pleasure of being with. Every inch of his thirty-some-odd-years old physique was extraordinary in its imperfections. He was rough – scarred, a few grey hairs, laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, but he was solid, as if he'd been chiseled out of stone. She sighed hungrily as she ran her hands up the coarse, hair-covered lengths of his muscled legs. Oh yes, she _wanted._ But there was also that ripple of hard stomach, and that gorgeous dip where his obliques and hips met, forming a vee that led right to…

Hermione licked her lips and crawled forward on her hands and knees until she was there, her unruly curls tumbling down around her and brushing over him as she bent down to taste. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius' hands clench tightly at the rug beneath him, and she smirked, slowing her attentions to a deliberate tease. _Let him see what it's like…_

She grinned against his stomach, amused at how his cock nestled perfectly between her breasts as she moved up his body. It twitched slightly as she slid back down again, intentionally brushing against him. She threw a wry smirk at him, raising her eyebrow teasingly before lowering her head once more.

~_continued_~

* * *

_AN: Apologies for leaving you hanging, readers, but the overall layout of the story left me little choice. I'll get the next chapter up within 24, however!_

_AN2: UPDATE: because is being a petulant and finicky little bitch right now, I have been unable to upload anything all day. If this keeps up, I'll try c/p'ing the next chapter in here just to keep my promise, and it might mean a false update later once it gets sorted out, but I will do my best to keep my promise.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

~4~

It hadn't been Sirius' intention to go quite this far with the genius witch. At least, not right off the bat. In fact, his original plan had been perfectly chaste in comparison to the reality; cast a silencing spell over them both, and give the young woman the tenderness and adoration she deserved. A bit of a foot massage, some high quality snogging, paying close attention to every bit of _exposed_ flesh he could... However, he hadn't anticipated the addiction to her taste, her touch, even her scent. Nor had he expected that her responsiveness would just feed that addiction even more until he'd stripped her down and devoured her right there on the floor of the parlour. And he really, truly had not even entertained the possibility that he'd be laid out here now, helpless to her cunning fingers and wicked little mouth as she made quite clear just how stuck-up and inexperienced she _wasn't_.

_Fuck, I owe her one hell of an apology…_ he swore briefly, before her hot, moist breath on his cock obliterated any more coherent thoughts. He looked down just in time to see the smart-arsed little swot smirk and raise her eyebrow at him, right before she dipped her head and dragged her tongue along his length.

Sirius whimpered silently, his eyes slamming shut for a brief moment as his head fell back to the floor with a quiet thud. He had to watch, though – after images of this very scenario had crept into his dreams and then his fantasies for the last week, it was too much to miss the sight of that gorgeous little pout wrapping itself around his cock. When he looked down again, he quickly discovered that reality was far better than the fantasy. He couldn't hear her, but he felt her moan in pleasure around his hardness, her eyes fluttering shut as she slowly took him into her mouth.

_Pads, you really are a clueless, assuming old lout,_ Sirius thought blissfully as his whole world narrowed down to the things Hermione was doing to him with her lips, tongue, and even her teeth. It had been ages since he'd been with a witch who actually seemed to enjoy this. And still he wasn't sure he'd ever come across a woman who was so bloody _artful_ about it. Sucking and swirling and licking, long, slow, hard drags until his tip nudged the back of her throat, and feathery teases as she opened her mouth wide enough to just skim his girth with her wet lips… Sirius felt like he was on a roller coaster of sensation.

The vague thought niggled in the back of his mind that he needed to make a choice soon. Part of him wanted this to never end, not until he'd experienced that sweet little mouth sucking his climax from him. Yet there was so very much more of this brunette goddess to experience, and _Merlin,_ but he wanted nothing more than to fuck her brains out, to feel her sweetness clamp around him, feel her legs wrap around his hips as he drove them both over the edge. Of course, _that_ was even farther along than he'd originally intended taking this tonight…

A sudden gasp was jerked from his lungs as the lightest graze of teeth teased his length. There was no way in hell he was going to last much longer if she kept at that…

Hermione's lazy exploration of Sirius' 'finest parts' ground to a sudden halt when he plunged his hands into her hair, ceasing her movements and gently pushing her away - _Stop…_

She looked up at him guardedly, hoping for the best but prepared for less. He was panting, a look of surprise on his face, but then he gave her that lopsided grin that always did funny things to her insides. Untangling his hands from the mess of her hair, he curled a beckoning finger, his eyes darkening with meaning.

A smile pulled at her lips as she complied, crawling up his body and moving to straddle him. A brief moment of nervous excitement caused her insides to flutter. Hermione knew in the back of her mind that this would change everything, and quite possibly not for the better. But damn it, she was tired of being the stuffy, responsible voice of reason for everyone, herself included. She was an adult, and her decisions and mistakes were hers alone to make. Despite the likelihood that this was one of the latter, the fact that it was _her_ choice was somehow empowering.

Just when she was poised over him, Sirius reached up and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her down to him. Almost nose-to-nose, he paused, his gaze flitting over her face with unspoken emotion. Then, with a slow tenderness that moved Hermione to her core, he kissed her once more. His hands slid reverently down the length of her body to her hips, giving a firm, meaningful squeeze.

Hermione pulled away and grinned as she reached down and guided him to her. She licked her lips, sighing heatedly as she lowered herself onto his length. Her eyes fell shut and her head fell back as she relished the feeling of being stretched and filled. It was - _wonderful… marvelous… deliciously, incredibly, oh-so-good…_ Although she couldn't make a sound, she couldn't help the guttural moan that rolled through her throat. When she opened her eyes and looked down at Sirius, his face was an expression of sheer pleasure. _Beautiful…_

He was still holding her hips in a tight grip as if doing so was his only means of restraint. She squeezed her muscles experimentally around him, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. Hermione smirked and wriggled slightly in response when he playfully glared at her. She realized with some level of smugness that she really must have done a number on him with her mouth if he was trying so hard to hold back. Either that, or the legendary Sirius Black must be more talk than she'd originally suspected. It was undoubtedly a good thing he'd charmed them both silent, because she most certainly would have mouthed off rather inappropriately by now.

Finally, relaxing the fingers that were digging almost painfully into her arse, Sirius guided her hips in a rocking motion. Hermione quickly took over, bracing her hands on his chest as she took her own pleasure from the well-endowed wizard. Her lips parted, a mute chuckle coming out on her breath as she tested his endurance. She watched as his eyes flashed challengingly and he gripped her again, thrusting up hard in response.

_Fuck!_ Hermione's head fell forward, her nails digging in to his flesh. She was so damned close now… Suddenly, Sirius grabbed her right hand, guiding it to where they were joined. She looked at him and he slowly nodded, his lips pressed firmly together in a commanding expression.

_Gods,_ she'd never done _this_ before, she thought, her cheeks feeling suddenly warm as she straightened back up. Sirius' mouth curved knowingly, but his eyes held only tender encouragement as he moved his hand with hers over her folds, pressing her middle finger against her clit and rubbing gently. When she'd clearly taken his lead, her fingers working her body the way only she knew how, he moved his hand away to caress and tease her breasts. His other hand coaxed her hips to begin their rolling motion again as he thrust against her movements in perfect rhythm.

The soft, organic noises of flesh and flesh and breath and fireplace were the only sounds filling the room. It was more than slightly surreal, but also extremely erotic to hear their bodies working together with such an intimate and raw pleasure.

Hermione tried to close her eyes, a frown forming between her brows as she felt that heavenly tightening sensation building in her abdomen. However, a sharp swat on her arse prevented her from succeeding. Her eyes flew open, shocked and startlingly aroused by this. Sirius pointed to his eye again, grinning sexily even as he huffed and clenched his jaw in restraint.

She couldn't take it anymore. Locking her gaze with his, Hermione gave up her rhythm, her fingers flying over her clit as Sirius pounded into her. He nodded slightly, and she could almost imagine him murmuring, _Yes – that's it, love – give in…_ Finally, finally, _oh sweet Circe yes,_ she reached the pinnacle of that dizzying spiral and fell, her body jerking and shuddering violently.

Moments later, she felt his body go rigid beneath her, his fingers digging almost painfully into her hip. Hermione smiled tenderly as she glimpsed the ecstatic look on Sirius' face, his eyes squeezed shut (finally, damn him), head thrown back, and his mouth open in a silent bellow of completion. She felt another tiny spasm as his hardness stretched and twitched inside of her before filling her with that flood of added wet warmth.

As she collapsed in exhaustion against him, Hermione distantly noticed the tiny red crescents her nails had left on Sirius' chest. She smirked and shifted a little as she felt him slip messily out of her - _we'll clean up in a little bit,_ she thought lazily. A content sigh escaped her as two strong arms came up and wrapped themselves around her tightly. The clock on the hallway softly chimed the five o'clock hour, and she felt Sirius plant a series of kisses on her head as her eyes fell shut.

~o~

The occasional crackle of the fire punctuated the lazy, contented silence that surrounded them. Sirius stared thoughtfully at the ancient plaster ceiling of the parlour, one hand tracing lazy patterns over the soft skin of his newfound lover's back. His other hand was curled beneath her chin and tangled loosely with hers, and he drew his thumb absently over her fingers. He truly _hadn't_ meant for things to go this far so quickly, but one taste, one simple damned kiss had been so addictive – more than his best intentions could withstand.

Of course, Sirius never really was the best at planning details in advance. His strength (and weakness) had always been in following his gut instincts. And those gut instincts had reacted to the beautiful, intelligent, and extremely sexy young witch by jumping right into a fire he hadn't realized was there until it was too late. Oh, he'd known of his attraction to Hermione. Hell, if he was straight with himself, he'd have to admit he'd had it for the swotty little brunette for months now, not just the past week.

But this – this gave a whole new meaning to the idea of 'rushing things.' He knew how this was going to look. And he knew he hadn't been looking for just an easy lay. Beyond that, however… Well, that was what tomorrow was for, right?

Sirius could tell by the utter relaxation in Hermione's whole body as well as her regular breathing that she was fast asleep, sprawled comfortably across his chest, her legs still loosely straddling his. The sense of peace that filled him was unlike anything he could recall having experienced. Just as his own eyes started to fall shut, the soft chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway reminded him that it was now six in the morning. Soon, other residents of the house would be up and around, getting ready for work. It wouldn't do to be found like this. Still, he was loath to wake the beautiful young witch in his arms.

Sirius craned his neck to spot his wand still sitting on the edge of the end table by the couch. He slid his hand from Hermione's back and stretched, reaching as far as possible but still not catching the wooden handle. When he scooted as gently as he could to get closer, Hermione shifted slightly and mumbled something incoherent, then curled her fist and tucked it more tightly under her chin.

Two more inches and he had his wand. Knowing Apparition would surely wake her, Sirius instead levitated her body just enough to let himself stand up and get his bearings. Then, situating her in his arms, he _Accio'ed_ their clothing and carried her upstairs to his bedroom.

~o~

A loud thud jarred Hermione from the pleasant, thick warmth of her slumber. Perhaps it wasn't exactly 'loud,' as it was more than likely the normal slam of the front door three floors down, but it was loud _enough_. She scowled, not opening her eyes just yet, and grumbled to herself as she burrowed further into the bed. The movement made her suddenly aware that she was neither alone, nor was she in her own bed. As if to punctuate that fact, she felt the lips of a certain gorgeous older wizard nuzzle her ear as he pulled her close.

_Oh, my… have we done something naughty?_ Hermione thought lazily to herself as a sleepy smile played across her lips. She squeezed her legs together, smiling even wider at the pleasant soreness there, but still she didn't open her eyes. _Not just yet,_ something in her pleaded, wanting to put off the inevitable awkward conversation for just a moment longer…

_Of course, 'conversation' would imply an ability to actually speak…_ She half-hoped Sirius' silencing charm was still in place. Perhaps he had the right idea, after all.

As though answering her thoughts with perfect timing, Hermione heard him breathe her name, apparently not wanting to wake her if she was still sleeping. She briefly considered faking it, but ultimately she knew she'd have to deal with this eventually. She'd made the very 'adult' decision of getting tangled with her best friend's godfather, and now it was time to face the 'adult' consequences.

Rolling over, she opened her eyes to face the wizard who still held her in his arms.

"Hey," she murmured groggily, offering Sirius a tired and somewhat sheepish smile.

He gave a slightly forced smile in return. "Hey," he rumbled, and unwrapped his arms from her, shifting their bodies and propping himself up on one elbow so he could regard her directly.

_Not a good sign,_ thought Hermione, and she quickly began gathering her thoughts like scattered bits of clothing. She needed to head this off at the pass before it got ridiculous…

"Hermione," Sirius began in a tone that sounded as if he'd been rehearsing his words for hours, "I owe you an apology. Through my own arrogance and thoughtlessness, I've given you the impression that I think you're - "

_Sexless, prudish, desperate, unattractive…_ Hermione finished silently and looked away, a spark of last night's anger re-emerging.

"…well, a lot of things that are completely untrue," Sirius muttered awkwardly after a silence that told her he remembered her words all too well. Then, clasping her chin and looking into her eyes, he shook his head resolutely. "_Completely_ untrue, Hermione. If anything, I've been an arse to you because of my own jealousy and wishful thinking."

"Jealousy?" Hermione repeated skeptically. "Over whom? The one date I've had in months - "

"Listen to me," he interrupted gruffly. "Please – I need you to just let me say this, alright?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she nodded. It wasn't her job to be Sirius Black's confessor, nor was it her obligation to absolve his guilt for being a prat.

Taking a deep breath, he sighed. "I don't think you're sexless, prudish, desperate, or unattractive – I have _never_ thought those things. A brainy little swot, yes – but that only makes you even more sexy. And as ridiculous as it might sound, yeah – 'jealous.' Not just of that poncy little Muggle boy last night. But every night you buried your nose in those books of yours, or stayed late at work instead of joining us all for pints, every time I called you a – a stick in the mud or picked a fight with you, it was - "

Hermione snorted. "What? You're going to tell me you were just pulling my pigtails to get my attention? I suppose that's what you and Ginny found so funny, as well…" She knew her tone was bordering on shrewish, but she didn't care. If they were laying out the cards, then so be it.

"I was laughing _at her_, damn it. She was being a – a ridiculous little chit as usual and made herself look stupid by…" Sirius huffed irritably and ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck, Hermione – do you always have to assume everyone's thinking the worst of you?"

"What do you expect, based on your behaviour, on _everyone's_ behaviour?" she threw back. "It's too early for this, Sirius," she added grumpily, pulling herself up from the bed. At the very least, she needed coffee before this went any further.

A strong hand stopped her, grasping her wrist and causing her to fall back into the mattress. Before she could object, his mouth was on hers, coaxing and pleading with her to forget her anger long enough to relax into his arms. When he finally broke away, Hermione blinked dreamily and then frowned. "Sirius, you can't just wipe it away every time."

"You agreed to let me speak," he answered with a pointed look.

"I need coffee."

"Let me fucking apologize and I'll make you coffee, _and_ French toast, yeah?" he said impatiently. "I'm trying, here," he added softly.

Hermione sighed. He _was_ trying. What else was she looking for, anyway? For once, Sirius was trying to be decent and act like an adult, and she was cutting him off. But then, that wasn't right either, was it? She'd said some unfair things to and about him as well, hadn't she? She looked at the older wizard, the shadow from a day's worth of stubble darkening his jaw, the morning light emphasizing the lines on his face. He _was_ an adult, one who clearly had a better idea of what he wanted out of life than she did. So what if that happened to be a carefree life filled with pleasure? He had more than enough resources for it. Furthermore, he'd opened his doors to her and to everyone else in this house, had provided them all with a roof and food and merriment and all she'd managed to see was how childish he was. A sudden wave of shame filled her, making her stomach feel bleak and sour.

But he was talking again… Hermione blinked and focused on Sirius' words again.

"…and of course he only knew so much of the story, but he told me the basic gist, and you're right, Hermione. We've all taken you for granted, but worst of all was me, and I'm sorry. You deserve better, and it's hardly any wonder you've felt like - "

"I'm moving out," Hermione said suddenly.

The words cut through the air between them, leaving a gaping slash of silence for one long moment before Sirius frowned and blinked in confusion. "What?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm moving out," she repeated in a slightly dazed tone, as if she had just come to this grand conclusion, which she had. That was it. It was exactly what she needed to do – for herself and for everyone. It had popped out of her mouth before she'd even completed the thought, but like a flash of divine inspiration, it made perfect sense. Excitement and promise fluttered in her chest as her idea began to solidify into plans – this was what she'd been struggling with for months, and here was her answer, finally. It was so obvious, she nearly laughed. She felt a grin tempting the corners of her mouth as she looked expectantly at Sirius, waiting for him to share her enthusiasm. She was momentarily confused and disappointed, however, to find him glowering at her.

"Wait – why?" he demanded, shaking his head. "You're telling me that now you're going to move out? Are you moving out or are you running away, Hermione? What, just because we fu - "

"No!" she stopped him, pressing her fingers to his lips, suddenly understanding the confusion. _Oh, this is going all wrong,_ she fretted.

"No," Hermione repeated softly but firmly. "Sirius – last night, I mean – this morning, you and I… what we – that was _wonderful_," she said finally, after getting her bearings. "It was absolutely wonderful, and there is _nothing_ that I will ever regret about it."

When Sirius didn't say anything, Hermione continued, carefully forming her explanation. "Yes, I would be lying if I said it had absolutely no bearing on my decision," she admitted, "but the truth is, I've been thinking about this for weeks. Months, really."

Sirius stared at her, still frowning, but his eyes were narrowed in consideration as if scanning her face and words for lies. Apparently finding no hard evidence of insincerity, he asked softly, "Then why?"

She couldn't help the little smile of wonder that danced across her face. "Because it's time for _me_ to grow up," she replied. "It's time for me to grow up, and decide what I really want to do with my life for once, and actually do it."

"And you can't do that here, where rent is free and you're surrounded by people who love you," he said flatly.

Hermione refused to even acknowledge the little skip her heart did at that word. Everyone in that house _did_ 'love' each other, as chosen family, nothing more. Why wasn't he being more supportive, though?

"No, Sirius, I can't," she answered gently. "It's not that I don't appreciate all that you've done – quite the opposite. You've been amazing, and I - "

"I'm tired, Hermione," Sirius interrupted in a gruff tone and laid back on his pillow. "Didn't get enough sleep last night, you know, and it's Saturday, so I'm gonna catch a few more hours, yeah?" he mumbled, closing his eyes.

Frowning, Hermione sat there in stunned silence for a long moment. _What in the hell just happened?_ she wondered, fighting back the unhappy feeling in her gut. When it became obvious that she'd been 'dismissed,' she gathered up her clothes and wand and slipped out of Sirius' bedroom to her own room one floor down.


	5. Chapter 5

~5~

"You're sure you don't want us to help?" Harry asked for at least the third time since they'd arrived an hour ago.

Hermione turned away from the light-filled, but currently empty little solarium off the living room of her new flat. She smiled at her friend. "I'm positive, really, Harry. But thanks."

"Told you," Ron muttered. "It's not like she needs help with the lifting, and she'd probably kill us after an hour anyway. Hermione's got to do it 'her way,' mate."

Grinning to herself as she turned back to the view over Charing Cross Road, Hermione had to admit that Ron sometimes knew her better than anyone else. Or perhaps it was simply that Ron was lacking in enough tact to state the obvious things that no one else felt comfortable saying.

She could hear Ginny opening and closing cupboards and closet doors as the younger witch wandered from the vacant kitchen down the hall to the other rooms. They had all come to wait with her for the delivery of her new furniture, and to see Hermione's new home for themselves.

As archaic as the wizarding world could be in some ways, it never failed to impress Hermione how much more efficient some things ran compared to the Muggle world. The process of finding an apartment or house to rent typically took weeks, according to her parents and cousins. For Hermione, it had taken two days, including the visit to her parents to discuss some financial investments her father had made in her name when she was younger.

In addition to moving out, Hermione had decided that if she could afford to, she would take a break from working at the Ministry and try to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. She'd gone to her mother and father prepared to hear lectures on responsibility and arguments about how most people don't "like" their jobs, but they did them anyway because that's how life worked. It had come as a complete surprise then, that they had both readily agreed with Hermione's plans. Apparently, after having read about the war and listening to Hermione's explanation for sending them away, Jeanette and Oswald Granger had slowly realized that their only child was mature and intelligent enough to make her own adult decisions now.

The second shock of her visit with her parents was discovering that she had far more money to her name than she'd ever imagined. Her father had explained that when Hermione got her letter for Hogwarts, the expense had been far less than what they'd originally been budgeting for her schooling. Over the years, they'd worked with an investment broker to maximize the return on her "college fund." At the moment, Hermione appeared to have just over thirty thousand pounds to her name in various stocks and high interest accounts. Of course, most of it wasn't readily accessible, but there was just enough available that, combined with the gold she had in her savings vault, she could theoretically live job-free for the next year and a half. Not that she would ever consider such a thing. But it did make things much easier…

"Hey," Harry said, breaking through Hermione's train of thought. He'd moved to stand next to her in the open doorway joining the living room to the sun-room. "Are you sure you're happy with this?" he asked.

Hermione gave him a quizzical grin. "Are you joking? Of course I am. Why?"

"What I mean is, nothing… _happened_ to make you leave, did it? Did Sirius say something to upset you?" Harry asked solemnly.

It was all she could do not to breathe a sigh of relief at his second question. She honestly wasn't sure, if he ever found out, how Harry would take the knowledge of that one thing that most certainly _did_ "happen." Thankfully, though, he seemed just as clueless as usual.

With a shake of her head, Hermione asked, "Why would you think this has anything to do with Sirius?"

He let out a noisy exhale and slumped against the door frame. "He's just been kind of broody for the last couple of days. Ever since you left, really."

"More like a grumpy old git," Ron muttered sullenly. "You know he yelled at me about leaving my empties in the parlour? Never minded before, not to mention his own dishes were still sitting there…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry, who shrugged. "I don't know – we just thought maybe you two had a fight and didn't tell us or something. I mean, not that you were ever best friends or anything, but he hardly said two words to you when you got the rest of your stuff this morning…"

Swallowing hard, she did her best to stay neutral sounding. "Well no, he didn't seem enthused about my moving out," she admitted. "But as for 'why,' I really don't know for certain, Harry," she finished, carefully skirting around the fact that she did at least have a general idea, even if it made no logical sense to her. After all, it wasn't as though she was moving to China, for Merlin's sake! And while she was doing this for _her_, how would it have been had she stayed? Even if there was absolutely nothing between her and Sirius, you can't just shag someone once and continue to live under the same roof together like nothing ever happened. His irrational and childish pouting over the matter frustrated and mystified her, but she refused to cater to it by fretting over 'why.'

"I'm sure he'll come around eventually," she added with a small smile.

"Sirius is just bent out of shape because he's not going to have Hermione around to play mother of the house and clean up after his mess. I'm sure a new 'house-elf' is already on order, though," Ginny quipped in a derisive tone as she entered the living room from the hallway across from them.

Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable all of a sudden. Hermione's cheeks burned, and her head felt oddly swimmy as a surge of unexpected anger swept through her. Ginny Weasley knew _nothing!_ Not about Sirius, and certainly not about _her. 'A new house-elf,' indeed…_ Just as she opened her mouth to give the redheaded little chit a piece of her mind, however, there appeared to be a brief gust of wind that blew past the young witch, whipping her auburn tresses around her head.

Ginny let out a startled squeak, but just as quickly, whatever happened stopped and her hair fell back into place. She gave a visible shiver and jerked her head around.

"Oi! What the bloody hell did you just do?" she called down the hallway.

Luna Lovegood was just slipping her wand back into the holster at her waist as she emerged with a serene smile.

"Wrackspurts," she said placidly. "They get in through your ears and nose and make your brain go all fuzzy. There's one subspecies that's a bit nasty, though – Dad calls them the 'Muddymouth' variety. They make your tongue loose so you say hurtful things without thinking. A nice cold gust of wind usually shakes them out, though."

Hermione bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as she smiled affectionately at Luna. Ginny's face had turned almost as red as her hair, but she at least had the good grace to look properly shamed.

"Sorry," she mumbled, casting a sheepish glance at both Harry and Hermione.

"Oh! Don't worry, it happens to just about everyone – they're all over the place," Luna said cheerily.

"Why is she here, again?" Ron asked Hermione all of a sudden. "I mean, no offense, Luna – it's just that you two were never exactly best pals in school…"

The blonde witch turned to Ron with a sweet smile that always seemed to be reserved just for him. "None taken. Hermione is commissioning me to paint one of her rooms. I like the second bedroom, actually," she said thoughtfully. "Although, it really does come out better if it's done as a gift," she added, casting a pointed look at Hermione.

Before Hermione could argue, a sharp clattering noise came from the glass patio door off the solarium. Three very large harpy eagles were perched atop a wooden crate the size of a large footstool. On the side of the crate was a logo of a Greek goddess and the letters _HHF_ in elaborate script.

"My furniture!" Hermione cried excitedly.

"Ooo, harpies!" Luna crooned, prompting Ron to whip his head around excitedly until he realized with disappointment that she was just talking about the eagles.

After offering them some owl treats and being rejected with a disdainful click of their beaks, Hermione signed off on the receipt. Then she slipped the tiny roll of parchment along with a galleon for gratuity into the pouch of one of the eagles' legs. Apparently satisfied, the birds took off, flying back in the general direction of Hestia Home Furnishings.

"Suppose that's our cue to leave," Hermione heard Ron mutter behind her.

She turned and gave her friends a sheepish grin while levitating the shrunken crate to the centre of the living room. It landed with a heavy thud, and the floor creaked slightly under its weight.

"Not that we mind," Ron added quickly with a teasing smile. "I mean, if you want to do this by yourself, have at it."

Throwing her arms around her two best friends in the world, she gave Ron and Harry a squeeze. "Promise me you boys will behave yourselves? Don't trash the place or give Sirius too much trouble…"

"He does that just fine on his own, you know," Harry said with a chuckle.

After a few more minutes of teasing and cajoling, Hermione managed to send everyone on their way, leaving her alone at last to decorate her new home.

~o~

A week and a half later, Ginny and Luna had corralled nearly everyone together and managed to convince Hermione that she needed a house warming party. Or at least, she needed to let her friends have their way in throwing a house warming party, if she ever wanted another moment's peace.

Remus Lupin offered to show Hermione how to charm her new home to temporarily expand its capacity, shifting to comfortably fit the numerous guests Ginny had invited. The spellwork was similar to creating a bottomless purse, but because of the complexities of plumbing, neighboring units, and floo networks, the magic was far more difficult to perform.

Molly Weasley announced immediately that she would be making the food. It had been "too long" since she'd cooked for a gathering larger than herself, Arthur, and the occasional child who wandered home far too infrequently. Even the monthly Sunday dinners at Grimmauld place had become a potluck affair, much to her muted consternation. So when Molly put her foot down this time, no one dared argue even if they'd wanted to, which was unlikely in any case.

Ginny even managed to get the twins to promise a prank-free evening. Whether the youngest Weasley had threatened them or blackmailed them was anyone's guess. But, with every viable excuse having been eliminated by her friends, Hermione finally agreed. In lieu of that month's "family dinner" at the Black mansion, they would move the gathering to the posh, moderately sized flat on the top floor of one of London's newest multi-wizarding-residence buildings.

The evening of the party, Hermione managed to steal just enough time alone to shower and get dressed. As she stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, she took several deep, calming breaths and tried to center herself. Everyone from Grimmauld Place was coming, Harry had said. And that apparently included Sirius.

She'd neither seen nor heard from him since she'd moved her belongings out of his house nearly two weeks ago. Honestly, it was just ridiculous, Hermione thought. But rather than dwelling on it in any aspect, she'd thrown herself headlong into a dozen large personal projects. She'd focused her attention on her new flat, the financial portfolio her father had sent to her, cataloging her personal library and labeling the shelves in the small study she'd set up, as well as the much larger task of deciding just what she wanted to do with her life now.

There were always moments, however, when she was without distractions – in the shower, laying in bed late at night and listening to the distinct lack of noise she'd grown used to at the old mansion. It was in those moments that she was faced with her memories of those precious few silent and breathtaking hours they'd spent together. It wasn't just their lovemaking though, but the countless little things about Sirius that had led up to that morning as well. She missed him, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't have feelings for him, feelings and hopes that it would have been more than just sex. But she wasn't stupid – Sirius Black wasn't the type of wizard a girl should pin her heart to. Those hopes were better set aside for things more definite than a bit of chemistry and a one-night stand.

Turning around and checking the reflection of her back, Hermione made certain there were no tags or stray threads sticking out from her 'little black dress.' It was her favourite; it was comfortable but hugged her curves in all the right places, making her feel invincible. The right little black dress was like a suit of armour for a woman's psyche, she'd once heard. And right now, she could find no argument with that statement.

She turned back around again, inspecting her hair and makeup one last time before slipping into a pair of black heels that boosted her almost to eye level with Ron. Her stomach did a slow somersault as she suddenly heard the roar of a motorcycle come down her street, but then she shook herself. _Could be anyone,_ she thought, but a glance at the clock on her night stand told her they would be arriving any minute now. Squaring her shoulders and giving her wild mane of curls one last pat, Hermione went to her living room to greet her guests.


	6. Chapter 6

~6~

_He didn't come._

Everyone was there, except for Sirius Black. Hermione refused to ask after him, however. He was a grown man and who cared if he had his own life? Never mind he had never missed a Sunday dinner since his return…

_Perhaps the eight kilometre distance was just too much to traverse,_ she thought grumpily, slicing through a green apple with a satisfying _thuck_.

_Childish…_(thuck)… _petulant…_(thuck)… _brooding…_(thuck)…_spoiled-_

"Hermione, I'm sure that's more than enough apple slices for Teddy, dear," Molly said in passing as she bustled happily through the kitchen and back out again, levitating several more trays of food and two pitchers of pumpkin juice for the guests as she went.

"She's doing it again, Fred," came George's voice from the doorway. The redhead leaned casually against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest and a lopsided grin on his face.

"Yeah, but it's so cute when she does it. It's so responsible and…_laborious_ of her," Fred replied, nudging his twin in passing as he entered the kitchen. He snagged one of the apple slices as he headed to the refrigerator.

"Very cute," George agreed with an almost imperceptible undertone of flirtation. "Adorable, even," he added, taking the bottle of butterbeer Fred held out to him with a nod.

"It takes just as long to use magic. The only difference is that it's my hands doing it, instead of a charmed knife," Hermione responded as she sliced through another wedge. She forced a playful glare at the twins, but her heart wasn't in it.

She just couldn't fathom why Sirius hadn't come. She'd known he hadn't been happy about her moving out, and part of her couldn't blame him for his initial reaction. After all, it had been terrible timing on her part, to make such a declaration when she had. But she'd _explained_ to him why - certainly after a day or two at the most, he would have come to understand and maybe even be happy for her, right? He _never_ missed Sunday dinners, and it wasn't as if he would have just forgotten about her party. And yet, no one else seemed to think it out of place that he wasn't present.

As if on cue, Remus and Tonks noisily stumbled into the kitchen behind a little boy whose hair was currently Weasley red and twice as messy as Harry's.

"_Apples!_" Teddy shouted as he plowed into Hermione's legs, wrapping his chubby arms around her knees. Then, looking up at her with soulful eyes, he asked, "Where's Uncle Sir-us, Mynee?"

Sirius always charmed Teddy's apple slices so they were different colours. Grinning affectionately, Hermione waved her wand over the plate of fruit and did the same before crouching to be at eye level with the child. "Wherever he is, I'm sure he would never forget to leave some magic apples behind for his favourite nephew," she said solemnly, handing the small dish to Teddy.

The little boy grinned and left a wet kiss on her cheek before running off at full tilt into the living room. Thinking quickly, Hermione cast an anti-spill charm on the plate just before the crimson shock of hair vanished from her view.

"Where _is_ Sirius, though?" Tonks asked, hoisting herself up on one of the bar stools situated around the kitchen island. Remus deftly caught the glass of punch that she nearly upset in the process.

"Said he had a date," Fred answered with a shrug as he brought his butterbeer to his lips.

Tonks made a little sound of indignation but was cut short by what - Hermione neither knew nor cared. All she knew was that she couldn't quite breathe right all of a sudden, perhaps due to the humiliating sensation of a very large lump in her chest. She knew there was noise around her, but it had faded into an odd buzz as she registered Fred's words.

_He had a date…_ A date that was more important than this. _Well, that answers the question of whether our night together was anything more meaningful than an illicit shag,_ she thought bitterly. And still, the lump was moving up in her throat. _Snap out of it!_ she shouted inwardly. The only thing worse than Fred's news would be letting everyone see how it affected her, letting them discover what had happened between her and Harry's godfather…

"Hermione?" she heard Remus' voice, quiet and concerned.

Giving herself a shake, Hermione forced a too-brilliant smile. "Sorry," she blurted with a small laugh, "I think I had my knees locked that whole time – just a little dizzy. If you'll excuse me…"

She rushed from the kitchen, completely missing the look that passed between Remus and his wife. She couldn't make it to the bathroom fast enough, it seemed. _Crying? Really!_ she thought angrily, fighting back the unmistakable sting behind her eyes. And yet a very vulnerable, foolish, and hurt part of her _did_ want to cry, desperately.

Instead, she leaned over her bathroom sink and splashed icy cold water over her face and neck until the feeling went away. Grateful she'd waterproofed the little makeup she wore, Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, not really seeing, but thinking. Why on earth was she so upset over this? The question was mostly clinical, albeit still tinged with hurt and frustration.

After all, it wasn't as if they were even dating. A random, happenstance night of blissful pleasure had happened – but nothing more, right? _Of course not – Sirius probably isn't capable of anything more,_ she thought sourly, before checking herself. _No._ Hermione had told him she would never regret what happened, and she intended to hold to that promise. She wasn't a child to be taken advantage of, the choice had been just as much hers, and if her heart was more involved than she'd initially thought, she'd just have to suck it up and deal.

And there was her answer. She'd been fighting against it all week, ever since Sirius had dismissed her so coolly from his bed. Truthfully, she'd been fighting it for months, burying her feelings for the older wizard so deeply that they only ever seemed to emerge in the form of disdain and irritation. While she wouldn't deny that her aggravation over the constant messes and the irresponsible behaviour had been sincere, the reality was that all of the boys at Grimmauld Place were equally at fault. Blaming Sirius was just a convenient way to remind herself of his flaws and to beat back the ridiculous affection she had for him. 'Ridiculous,' because he would never, ever return those feelings.

And now she knew this for certain. He'd not only deemed her housewarming party unimportant and unworthy of attending, but he'd already found someone else to fill his time and undoubtedly warm his bed while he blew her off. And while logic dictated it was no good to be bitter over it, she was still allowed to feel hurt by this, right?

A soft rap on the bathroom door jarred Hermione out of her thoughts.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Remus asked quietly.

Drying off the remaining droplets of water from her face and neck with a hand towel, she opened the door and gave her former professor a sheepish grin. "Sorry again," she said. "I'm fine, thanks – just needed a moment, that's all."

With a thoughtful nod, Remus said, "Well, Dora's really tired and her head's starting to pound, so I'm going to take her home and drop Teddy off with Andromeda - "

"Oh! You can leave Teddy here if you like – it's really no trouble," Hermione interrupted. She wasn't terribly fond of children most of the time, but the little Metamorphmagus was an exception. He never failed to lift her spirits or make her smile with his innocent, inquisitive nature.

"You're sure?" Remus tilted his head and eyed her as if reading far beyond their current conversation. It always left Hermione feeling vaguely unnerved when he did that, as if he could see right through her and into her deepest feelings.

She swallowed and smiled again. "Positive. Go tend to your wife and her hormones, please," she teased. She hadn't been old enough nor really present the first time Tonks had been pregnant, and she was glad. The mood swings the pink haired witch displayed during this pregnancy were frightening enough on their own, but she also seemed to have developed an eerie level of insight and intuition. Those things combined had the potential to sometimes render the usually good-natured, clumsy Auror into a vengeful goddess with a whip-smart tongue and razor-sharp wand reflex. She'd been all but banned from number twelve, Grimmauld Place until after the second Lupin child was finally born.

Remus returned her smile and leaned in, cupping Hermione's face and planting a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Wotcher, Lupin? Makin' the moves on my girl here?" Tonks said wryly, having appeared behind Remus at that very moment.

His lips pursed together in a half-smirk, half-grin. He shook his head and rolled his eyes in amusement as he turned around to face his wife. She was leaning casually against the wall, her arms folded over the slight curve of her belly.

"Thought we agreed to share her, _Mrs._ Lupin?" Remus threw back teasingly.

"As if you could handle the both of us," Tonks said with a laugh. "Right, Hermione?"

Hermione merely grinned affectionately at her friends. She always counted herself truly blessed that she'd had the chance to get to know Remus and Tonks better after the war ended. They seemed to compliment each other perfectly, protecting and supporting each other's quirks and unique personalities. They were a perfect example of the sum being greater than the individual parts. And she was one of the lucky few who got to be close to that rare warmth on a regular basis.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well," Hermione said to Tonks, watching as Remus _Accio'ed_ their cloaks and bags.

"Er – yeah, me too," the other witch replied as she fumbled with her shoulder bag and Teddy's "toy" bag. "You know – hormones. Comes and goes," she added in a mumble.

"Hermione, I should be back in an hour or so to pick up Teddy. If you need anything at all in the meantime - "

"I'll send a Patronus," Hermione finished for Remus with a nod, taking the bag filled with toys and supplies from Tonks, who was still fiddling with the clasp to her cloak.

"Thanks, doll," Tonks said finally, looking up with a smile and kissing her on the cheek.

When they were both ready, Hermione showed them into the study where they could Floo out discreetly. Once the whirling green flames had dissipated back into soot and ash and she was alone again, however, she frowned unhappily. _It does no good to be bitter,_ Hermione reminded herself. Then, taking a deep breath, she shook her head as if trying to loosen any spare 'Wrackspurts' and plastered a smile back on her face before heading back out into the main area of her flat.

~o~

Immediately after stepping out of the huge fireplace and into the once-formal parlour of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Nymphadora Lupin cast a silent _Hominum Revelio_ charm. She smirked at her husband.

"'Date' my arse," she whispered, stepping over a pile of empty butterbeer bottles. She paused, however, when Remus placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a quick shake of his head. His caution was emphasized by the distant sound of glass shattering, followed by a loud thud. Her grip on her wand tightened instinctively, and her senses immediately went on alert.

Remus rolled his eyes - not at his wife's reaction, but at the source of the noise. His keen hearing had made clearer work of the distant sound than average ears could, and having picked up on his friend's drunken mumbling, he'd already ascertained that some kind of a tantrum or brooding session was well underway. "Stay here a minute," he whispered, and picked his way through the mess in the dimly lit sitting room to the hallway, heading in the direction of the kitchen downstairs.

When he pushed through the door at the bottom of the stairs, he had to fight back a groan of dismay. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. As the evening had worn on, Hermione's mood had grown increasingly tense and unhappy. Although she'd done a remarkable job of hiding it, Remus could practically smell it on her every time they'd crossed paths. Dora, on the other hand, had simply known something was off – 'girlfriends' intuition,' she'd claimed. The younger witch's reaction to the news of Sirius' supposed date had confirmed his suspicion that it had something to do with Remus' old friend.

Now, however, taking in the sight of the black-haired wizard slumped over the kitchen table in all his drunken and self-pitying splendour, the story told itself in painful black and white.

The place was a disaster area in several layers. The dirty dishes piled in the sink, the overflowing rubbish bin, and the used pots and pans still sitting on the stove reflected a week's worth of multiple bachelors' slovenliness. However, the empty bottles on the table, the almost-full ashtray, and the smattering of cigarette ashes that hadn't quite made it to said ashtray all spoke of Sirius' current brooding session. And still another layer spoke of at least one tantrum thrown – broken glass that had once been an empty bottle of Ogden's Finest crunched under his feet, and an overturned chair with a fractured back lay in the corner closest to the door. Remus wondered just when Sirius had started drinking that day, and if this was the only evening he'd spent like this in the past week and a half, or whether it was a repeat performance.

"What have you done, Pads?" he asked in a low voice of warning as he came further into the kitchen. With his toe, he nudged another empty firewhiskey bottle, one that had evidently survived the Animagus' wrath.

Sirius' broad shoulders shook unsteadily with a sore, silent laugh before he finally raised his head. "What have _I_ done?" he slurred. "_She's_ the one that left!"

Remus gave an unsurprised nod, pulled out a chair, and sat down with a weary sigh, waiting for the rest.

"She _left_," Sirius repeated with a dramatic sweep of his hand. "Oh sure, I was an arse, but I fucking _tried_ - I tried to fix it, Moony, tried to make her see - kept fucking up so instead of _telling_ I tried to _show_ - "

"Pads - "

"-and I _swear_ I never meant it to go that far," Sirius plowed on, oblivious. "I _thought_ it went well, though – she seemed happy enough - really into it, you know? I didn't mean to, though… was just trying to _show_ her how much I - well… But she has that tight little body, Moony and those – those _lips_, and _Merlin_ what they can do when that brainy little swot sets her interests on it - "

"_PADFOOT!_" Remus snarled with a mixture of horror and aggravation. It was bad enough to know his best friend evidently fancied his former student, but to hear the details…

Just then, there came a sound of something being knocked over in the hallway, followed by a muttered stream of curses. Seconds later, Dora appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking slightly frazzled.

"So, the Wendy-bird leaves Neverland and you Lost Boys completely trash the place – could you _be_ any more of a cliché?" she huffed irritably before levitating a pile of bottles and rubbish she'd accumulated over to the bin. Seeing that it was already overflowing, her shoulders slumped in aggravated defeat. She lowered the garbage into a pile on the floor instead, casting a pointed glare at the two men seated at the table.

"Oh, she used that line on you too, did she?" Sirius growled suddenly, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as a sneer curled his lips.

Dora's eyebrows shot up into the shock of pink that covered her forehead and she grinned bemusedly. "Hardly," she replied. "It's a pretty common analogy used for you lot. If anything, I might have been the one to point it out to her ages ago."

"Oh, thanks so much for that," he shot back sarcastically before bringing a half-full bottle of non-magical Irish whiskey to his lips. Remus supposed that Sirius had run out of Ogden's by that point.

"The shoe obviously fits, Sirius, and you wear it so well," she retorted.

"Dora," Remus rumbled, half-pleading and half-warning.

"No, she's right," Sirius croaked, slumping back in his chair again. "I'm nothing but a washed up, irresponsible lout who can't even get a fucking job, and we all just took her for granted this whole time. Dunno why I thought one night together'd fix that - "

"Wait - _whoah._ Stop right there. You _slept_ with her? As in – had _sex_?" Dora interrupted, her eyes huge. Then, comprehension dawned on her features and she leaned back against the counter with a smirk. "Well it's no wonder she left!"

"_Nymphadora_, you're not _helping._" Remus gritted through his teeth. He really didn't relish the idea of trying to separate his pregnant but more-than-capable, trained-for-combat wife from a drunk, but still six-foot-three Sirius Black. And all because both of them lacked whatever gene granted a person the sense to keep their mouths shut on a good day, much less under these circumstances. Maybe it was hereditary…

"I'm being serious!" Dora insisted, holding up her hand in response to Remus' protest, then she turned to her cousin. "What in the bloody hell did you expect? Regardless of how, er… 'successful' the experience might or might not have been, _no_ woman in her right mind is going to want to live with a man she just shagged – not under the same roof as four of his mates, anyway. And _certainly_ not when you all live like this," she added, looking around the kitchen and wrinkling her nose. "Never mind that in Hermione's case, they're _her_ best mates, too, and one of them is incidentally your godson. Did you honestly think she would stay after that?"

"I – I didn't…" Sirius stammered, taken aback.

"You didn't think, period," Dora answered for him, although her tone was gentle and sympathetic. She cast a glance at Remus, who undoubtedly looked almost as clueless as Sirius, and she rolled her eyes before turning to their friend once more.

"So…?" she pressed, motioning with her hands for some kind of response from either of them.

Sirius exhaled sloppily and leaned back in his chair. "Doesn' matter," he muttered ruefully with a shake of his head. "She would've left anyway. Said it was time to 'grow up.' Ha! Hermione Granger, Miss Fifteen-Going-on-Fifty, needs to _grow up_!" He paused to laugh bitterly, choking slightly on the after-effects of too many cigarettes in one sitting. When his ragged laughter finally died, his half-focused gaze fell on Remus. Suddenly he looked sadder, more tired, and older than he'd looked since before he'd fallen into the Veil.

"Damned woman's half my age and twice as grown up 's me. The fuck 'm I supposed to do with that?" he slurred miserably, taking another swig of whiskey.

Clearly having lost her patience with her cousin, Dora vanished the bottle, leaving thin air in the curved hand that had held it. Sirius' lips remained puckered comically for a moment before he yelped, "Oi!"

Remus took a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitable firestorm that was about to happen. He knew he should have come to Grimmauld Place alone…

"_Maybe_ you're supposed to _grow up yourself_, genius!" Dora snapped. "Just because you've never _had_ to work a day in your life, Sirius, doesn't mean you _shouldn't_. No one finds acting half your age and wallowing in your own shit when things don't work out attractive."

"Yeah, well what else am I fit for, Sunshine?" Sirius snarled. "Maybe if half my life wasn't completely thrown in the shitter I could've done something with it, but now – now what? Go back to Auror Academy with a bunch of snot nosed whelps half my age?" He gave a harsh, derisive laugh and reached across the table for a half-empty bottle of stale butterbeer. "Fuckin Prophet'd have a field day with that," he added sourly.

"But you don't care what anyone else thinks," Dora threw back at him with a smirk.

Sirius tapped another cigarette out of the soft pack by the ashtray and brought it to his lips. He rounded his gaze on Remus. "Why is she even here?" he asked with a sneer through the filter before lighting the tip.

Sudden anger flared in the werewolf, both from protectiveness of his wife as well as flat-out irritation over Sirius' self-pitying whinge-fest. "She's here because she's my wife, and incidentally she's right," he answered coolly. "Regardless of your situation with Hermione, you can't continue the way you have and expect others to see you as anything more than a spoiled, irresponsible prat, Padfoot. And obviously you're not happy with that, or you wouldn't be sitting here in your own filth trying to pickle your liver at an early age," he reasoned.

Sirius' chin fell to his chest, his head swinging drunkenly as he looked away. "I'm not _fit_ for anything," he protested in a hoarse whine. "An' I'm _old,_" he added dramatically before burying his head in his arms on the table.

"Oh, good grief," Dora said with exasperation. "Is he always this pathetic when he's hammered?"

"Occasionally," Remus answered dryly, plucking the smouldering fag from his friend's slackened fingers and taking a quick drag before butting it out. Recalling a few other incidences during Sirius' post-Azkaban restriction to Grimmauld Place, he added, "Better this than the belligerent rants he would go on after dealing with Severus…"

"Greasy-haired git," Sirius mumbled drowsily against the table as his shoulders sagged.

"A-and, he's out," Remus said quietly. He raised an eyebrow at Dora. "Just like old times. If you'll give me a moment to send him to bed, I'll help clean up some of this mess before the others come back."

"We're _not_ cleaning up _their_ part of this mess," she said firmly. "Bunch of right pigs, they are," she added, already pointing her wand at the broken chair in the corner.

By the time Remus had returned to the kitchen from levitating Sirius up to his bedroom, any sign of his friend's drinking binge had been neatly swept away, right down to the ashtray that rarely saw any use outside of these occurrences. Dora was waiting in the parlour, perched on the arm of an overstuffed chair and thumbing idly through a copy of _The Quibbler_. She flipped the paper over and tossed it onto the end table with a loud exhale.

"Right," she said tiredly. "Now I really _do_ have a pounding head. Is he going to be okay?"

"There's a hangover remedy waiting for him on his night stand," Remus replied with a nod, offering his wife his hand. She let him pull her into his arms, and he nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling deeply while rubbing gentle circles over her back. "The rest of it – I'm not sure," he murmured with a contented sigh as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I'm going to owl Kingsley," Dora said mumbled into his neck.

Remus pulled away slightly with a frown, looking down into his wife's dark grey eyes, distantly similar to her cousin's. "Dora," he began, "I'm not sure you should - "

"I know," she interrupted, breaking out of his embrace to pull on her cloak. "We're hardly strangers, me and Sirius – I know he won't take kindly to meddling and pushing. But Kingsley's got that Special Projects division he's forming, and from what little he was willing to tell me about it, it sounds like it might be a fit for Sirius. Top secret and all that."

He raised his eyebrows in consideration. It really wasn't a bad idea. _If_ Sirius genuinely wanted to try his hand at being a responsible, regularly employed adult, this might be a golden opportunity. He felt Dora's eyes on his face and glanced over at her to find her grinning smugly.

"See? I'm brilliant and you know it," she said, as if she'd been able to read his entire train of thought on his face.

"Come on, Mrs. Lupin," he growled playfully. "Let's get you home and into a hot bath before you can come up with any more remarkable ideas."

"Oh, but the bathtub is where all of my _most_ remarkable ideas happen, love," she purred, bending over to pick up her shoulder bag and giving him an enticing view of her pert little rump in the process. _Merlin, but that just never got old…_

"Thought you had a headache?" His voice cracked slightly.

"I do," Dora replied with mocking solemnity as she drew close to him, pressing her full breasts against his chest. "And we both know the best remedy for that…"

Remus glanced at the clock on the mantel. They'd been gone from Hermione's party for all of thirty-five minutes…

"I'm sure she'll understand if it takes a little longer than expected to pick up Teddy," his wife whispered into his ear before raking her teeth over his lobe, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. The small, deft fingers that slid over his chest and down to the rapidly growing bulge in his trousers quickly convinced him she was right. Then, with a playful wink, Dora turned and disappeared in a whirl a green flames. Smirking wryly to himself, Remus grabbed a handful of floo powder and followed her through the fireplace to their blessedly empty cottage.


	7. Chapter 7

~7~

Hermione gave a frustrated growl and threw her hairbrush into the sink. It had been raining for nearly a week, and her hair had staged a full-on rebellion by reverting back to its Hogwarts third-year state.

"Perfect," she said miserably to the bathroom mirror. "Just… bloody perfect."

Not only was her hair a bushy, frizzy, unmanageable mess, but she was bloated from having started her period, _and_ she had a spot the size of Mount Olympus on her chin – all just in time for the monthly Sunday dinner gathering at Grimmauld Place.

Not that she was trying to impress anyone. On the contrary, having not heard a single word from _him_ in nearly a month and a half, Hermione had no delusions or false hopes about his level of interest. Still, was it too much to ask not to look and feel like a completely bloated cow when she was finally about to come face to face with Sirius again?

_Evidently yes, yes it is too much to ask…_

Heaving a resigned sigh, Hermione picked up the brush once more and began dividing the unruly dark cloud of hair into three sections. Once she had it tamed into a somewhat tidy plait, she paid a final look at herself before turning to go. It was probably just as well, really. She had the sudden odd idea that perhaps her ragged appearance served as a sort of inner rebellion against the superficial and shallow-minded. This thought did nothing to improve her mood however, as an image of one of Sirius' more superficial yet far more glamorous past conquests suddenly came to mind.

_Oh gods,_ she thought in a panic, _what if he brings one of them to dinner?_

It took a full ten minutes for Hermione to relax and convince herself that, while he might be insensitive and childish, Sirius would never intentionally do something that low. When she finally arrived on the front doorstep of Grimmauld Place, dinner had almost begun. Molly chided her for worrying them with her near-lateness, while Harry and Ron gently teased her for using the doorbell. In the bustle of adding her dish to the long layout of food brought by others and getting settled in, Hermione hadn't expected to see Sirius right away. But once they were all seated at the huge table, she looked around with a frown.

"Where's Sirius?" she asked. Then, with a tight little chuckle she added, "Another date, I suppose?"

Hermione felt Remus' eyes on her, but she didn't care. What the hell kind of childish prat was Sirius that he was skipping out on their monthly tradition _again_?

"He's at work," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of food, having already dug in before everyone else.

She shot a surprised look at Harry. "_Work?_"

Harry's smile was subdued, but there was a look of pride in his eyes. "Er, yeah," he answered, spooning a pile of mashed potatoes onto his plate. "He's been doing some sort of top secret work for Kingsley for the past month. Won't even tell me what it is."

"But on a Sunday evening - ?" Hermione asked, still skeptical.

With a shrug, Harry replied, "He's been keeping odd hours. We really hardly ever see him anymore."

"Yeah, except for when he's telling us off about cleaning up," Ron added in a grumble. "Honestly, he could afford to pay a house-elf ten times over even with the new regulation standards. But no…"

"You know how he feels about house-elves, Ronald," Hermione gently chided, feeling her mood about Sirius lighten a bit. "After the whole mess with Kreacher…"

"I know, I know," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes as he tore open a roll and slathered it with butter. "Not that you're biased or anything, Miss Spew," he teased.

"But when did all this happen? You said a month ago?" she asked. _How could no one have told her?_

"You haven't exactly been around much yourself," George remarked.

"Yeah, you moved out and forgot all about your boys," Fred added in a mockingly hurt tone. "You've missed out on more than just Sirius getting a job and Ron trying to do his own laundry, you know."

"Course, he hasn't exactly succeeded yet, has he, Fred?" George quipped.

"He had to floo Ginny and bribe her to fix his work robes after he turned them all canary yellow by mistake." Fred elbowed Hermione with a grin.

"Still not convinced one of you didn't do that," Ron muttered peevishly.

"So, what else have I missed, then?" Hermione asked, hoping to move the topic of conversation away from her own absence. She gave a quick glance around to the others at the table. Her eyes met with Arthur's for barely a fraction, unnoticeable to anyone else. Sirius wasn't the only one with 'top secret missions,' and Hermione wondered briefly if there was any connection. Undoubtedly there was, but if her own experience was any indication, it would likely remain a mystery as to the nature of it.

Harry had been the first to know when she'd decided to take on the position of Assistant Manager at Flourish and Blotts. But it was less of a job and more of a paid hobby to Hermione; it really didn't take up so much of her time as to prevent her from seeing her friends for nearly a month straight.

After nearly embarrassing herself at her own housewarming party, she'd decided to 'take a step back' to get some perspective and emotional distance from the whole situation with Sirius. At least, that had been the initial reason for her sparseness. Shortly after taking on her new job, however, she'd received an owl from Kingsley Shacklebolt requesting audience to discuss a proposal for a private research contract.

Being Muggleborn, Hermione had often wondered why the British wizarding world was so far behind the times technologically. As a child, she'd taken it at face value for what it was. However, after school and the war, she'd learned of other magical cultures and how they'd managed to embrace the technological advances of their Muggle counterparts, incorporating them into their own worlds.

Britain was woefully, embarrassingly behind the times, and Minister Shacklebolt was apparently ready to rectify that problem. It was an ambitious agenda, to say the least. The Ministry had boxed itself in centuries ago with countless outdated laws and regulations regarding the use of Muggle items and artifacts. It would take a Minister's entire term just to amend those laws, much less accomplish anything beyond that. This was where Arthur Weasley came in to the picture, clearing a very winding and unnoticeable path that allowed Hermione access to various electronic devices and magical modification procedures that were currently illegal to perform.

Buried amidst so much paperwork and red tape, the work she'd been doing for the Minister of Magic was theoretically safe from discovery until the time came to bring hard evidence to light that Britain's wizarding world could and should benefit from moving into the twenty-first century. In the meantime, however, Hermione's new home had become a heavily warded lab, filled with American and Japanese texts, magical science and technology journals, computers, cellular phones, CD players, and even video games and the newest portable music players. The last time anyone other than Hermione had seen the inside of her beautiful new flat had been at her housewarming party. And that was how it had to stay, indefinitely.

As dinner came to a close, Hermione looked fondly around the table at her friends and surrogate family. She had the distinct feeling that her life had officially moved on to a new era, and while that was exciting and inspiring, there was a definite tinge of melancholy there. Remus and Tonks once again had to leave early to put Teddy to bed. Tonks was looking markedly more pregnant than she had a month ago. Fred and George were still doing brilliantly with the joke shop – she occasionally got to see them in passing while working at Flourish and Blotts, at least. Ginny was preparing for another tour with the Harpies, and Harry was quickly rising through the ranks at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with Ron not far behind. It was sad to not be a part of their daily lives, but Hermione knew that had she stayed, she would still feel a similar disconnect.

Shooing Molly off from cleaning the kitchen, Hermione set the sink to work on the dirty dishes while she gathered up the few leftovers to be set aside for lunches in the morning. In a moment of impulsive sentimentality, she loaded up a plate of Sirius' favorites and charmed it to stay warm until he returned. Harry caught sight of this and grinned at her as he finished wiping down the stove. _At least I'm not the only one who still does some things the Muggle way,_ Hermione thought with a smile. Rinsing the washcloth in the sink, he nudged his shoulder against hers.

"He does miss you, you know," Harry said, giving her a crooked half-smile before hopping up to sit on the counter. "Not that he's said it, but we all do – even Sirius."

"Thanks," Hermione said. "I miss you all, too. Even Sirius," she added with a laugh.

"You seem really happy with your new job and place, though," he observed.

"I am – and I'm really sorry I haven't been around, Harry. It's just been quite an adjustment," she said honestly, stepping smoothly around the details.

"Well, they've finally put me and Ron back on the same shift at the Ministry. Guess we've stayed out of trouble long enough," he added with a sheepish grin. "Maybe we could come by and take you out to lunch now and then, yeah?"

"I'd really like that," she replied warmly, hopping up onto the counter next to him and reaching around behind his back for the mug of tea she'd prepared for herself. She'd been secretly pleased and a bit touched to find a fresh tin of her dark brown muscovado sugar tucked away behind the box of vanilla spiced tea in the pantry.

~o~ 

It was 2 a.m. when Sirius' motorcycle finally made its silent descent over London. The constant traveling between multiple time zones was really starting to fuck with his sense of normalcy, and he was glad to know this was the last trip he'd have to make for a while. He was looking forward to the next phase in Kingsley's project, too.

Sirius shook his head. He never imagined he'd have _that_ thought. Of course, he never really imagined he'd have a 'normal' life, period. Not that what he was doing was remotely normal or humdrum, even by wizarding standards. Eventually it would be, however, Kings had practically warned him. It wasn't the sense of excitement that Sirius found so fulfilling anyway, he'd recently realized, but rather the sense of purpose.

The cross street to Grimmauld place appeared below him, and he circled back and around in a deep, graceful dip, the tires of his bike touching asphalt with a soundless grace that made him grin every time. 'Sylvia,' sleek and modern and nearly all black except for the sparse silver of chrome in the relevant places, was much faster and comparatively more efficient than her predecessor had been. Not that Lydia wouldn't always hold a special place in Sirius' heart, but he'd almost been grateful to hear of her demise when he'd returned. His old bike had too many memories, most of them embarrassingly stupid and typical of a young, spoiled, wannabe playboy, all followed by that one big, unspeakably terrible memory. It had taken a couple of months of research before Sirius had finally decided on the more subtle, yet far more powerful black BMW. But once he'd found her, it had been love.

Usually, whenever he'd return home from a flight, as soon as it touched pavement Sirius would throw off the bike's Silencing Charm and open her up wide, speeding up one street and around the block, weaving in and out of cars at full throttle for the sheer joy of it. Tonight, however, he was hungry and tired, both physically and mentally. He'd missed the monthly gathering for Sunday dinner. Which meant he'd missed his one chance to see Hermione without having to go out of his way and risk making an even bigger arse of himself.

_Not that he wasn't prepared to do just that, if necessary._

Sirius' escape - his go-to for clearing his head and thinking problems through - was his motorcycle, preferably above the clouds, at night. Since working for Kings, the countless trips he'd made with Sylvia to various international underground contact points had afforded him more than enough opportunities sort out his thoughts and his feelings – about his life, and about one particularly intelligent, sexy, curly haired witch.

Sighing, he turned the engine off, giving the fuel tank a loving caress as the vibrations murmured to a silent halt beneath him. Food first, then he'd sleep, and tomorrow he'd find out what was next on Kingsley's agenda. Perhaps then he'd ask around for Hermione's new address and try to at least salvage their friendship, if nothing else.

As quietly as possible, Sirius crept through the front hallway, not bothering with any lamps until the door to the kitchen was shut behind him. He immediately set about scavenging for leftovers, frowning and shaking his head at how little remained, until his eyes fell on two covered dishes left on the counter. The first one he touched radiated with a warming charm, and he was delighted to pull back the cover and find all of his favourites kept fresh for him. The second dish was smaller, but he groaned out loud to discover the brownies that were Hermione's specialty. The brilliant little goddess had actually left him his own plate of dinner and dessert? An utterly silly spark of hope flared in Sirius' heart.

"You're back," Harry's sleepy croak came from the kitchen door.

"Yeah – sorry," Sirius answered, "I tried to be quiet."

"Oh, I was just getting a glass of water," his godson said with a yawn, padding to the sink in his bare feet.

Too tired and hungry to respond, Sirius simply nodded and took his plates to the table, grabbing a bottle of butterbeer from the refrigerator before dropping down into a chair.

"You were missed at dinner," Harry said, sitting down across from him. There was no accusation in his voice, however. "She had to charm that plate to shock anyone else who tried to touch it, you know," he added, nodding to the dish of brownies.

"I'd believe it," Sirius replied absently, shoveling a forkful of Molly's pot roast into his mouth. He was so caught up in enjoying a hot, home cooked meal for once, that he missed Harry's frown.

"So are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and her? Or am I just going to have to guess at the worst case scenario?" Harry asked dryly, although there was an undertone of warning in his voice.

Sirius stopped mid-bite, looking up at the younger wizard. It was eerie to see Lily's trademark no-nonsense glare staring back at him through Harry's glasses. Slowly, he set down his fork and straightened, swallowing hard. This really wasn't what he was expecting…

"Did she say something?" he asked carefully, hoping to get some idea of just how much Harry _did_ know before he went and stuck his foot in it completely.

"No! And that's just the problem. One minute she's here, the next she's moved out and suddenly neither of you are around, much less actually speaking to one another. You're both pants at covering this up, you know," Harry remarked in a grumble.

Sirius considered this for a moment. "Are you sure you _want_ to know?" he asked softly.

Harry stared at his godfather for a long moment, then shook his head in mild disgust. "Were you drunk, or was it just a random, mindless disregard for - "

"Now wait just a minute," Sirius interrupted in a growl. "_Neither_ of us were drunk, and what the fuck do you take me for, anyway? You think I'd just… 'mindlessly' - with _her?_ And as for disregarding _anything_, make no mistake, Harry – Hermione Granger is no innocent, weeping willow of a girl."

"She's my friend, Sirius – more than my friend. She was there for me through everything. If you hurt her…" Harry warned, his jaw set.

Exhausted, cranky, and barely having been able to touch his food, Sirius snapped in reply, "And what about me, eh? Or is it perfectly fine for it to go the other way?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"You think I'd lay a finger on her if it didn't mean something, Harry? I know I'm hardly a saint, but that's a pretty low assumption," Sirius responded, shaking his head. "Look - Hermione is a grown woman. I guarantee you, if I fuck this up – there is no one else on this planet who would do more damage to me than her. If there's anything left _to_ fuck up," he added miserably, stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken.

He knew Harry's attachment to Hermione was part of the package, as would be the inevitable raised eyebrows and disapproval from others due to their age difference. Of course, this was all assuming he still even had a chance with her, much less whether or not it could work out. But discussing his feelings for Hermione with his godson was just not on Sirius' list of things he wanted to do. Not ever, but certainly not at two thirty in the morning when all he wanted was food and sleep.

"I'm sorry," Harry finally said, after a long silence filled with the soft scrape of knife and fork against plate as Sirius pushed his dinner around. "I know you would never intentionally hurt her, and I also know you're not _that_ irresponsible…"

_Thanks for the vote of confidence,_ Sirius almost snapped back.

"And you're right – Hermione's an adult. If anything, I suppose I should be more worried for your safety," Harry continued, a tinge of amusement creeping into his voice before he turned somber. "I guess… I just hate seeing two of the people I love the most being on non-speaking terms."

"We're not on non-speaking terms, Harry," Sirius answered wearily. They just hadn't seen each other since she'd moved out. Mostly due to his avoiding her, but that still didn't technically count as not speaking to each other…

"Well, then maybe you should go talk to her," Harry replied, pulling his wand from his pajama bottoms pocket and summoning a quill and a piece of parchment. "Here's her address," he said, and pushed the note across the table to Sirius before turning to head back upstairs, bidding a muffled 'goodnight' as he pushed through the door.


	8. Chapter 8

~8~

At exactly five fifty-three p.m., Sirius parked his bike in the alleyway outside of the Leaky Cauldron, setting the anti-theft charm before pulling a brown, nondescript package from one of the saddlebags. Apparently Kingsley's usual man was out on another mission, so he'd asked Sirius to make the delivery of last night's pick-up. At six o'clock, he was due to drop the modified Computer Data Shielding Kit off with the assistant manager of Flourish and Blotts, half an hour after the successful bookstore closed. No other details had been given.

Tucking the package in the inside pocket of his leather jacket, Sirius also felt around for the small piece of parchment Harry had given him last night. He swallowed back the unfamiliar nervous feeling in his throat. He'd made a silent promise to himself that after he'd made the delivery, he'd swing by the Charing Cross address and pay Hermione a long overdue visit. As he came up on the glass storefront to Flourish and Blotts, however, his eyes fell on a familiar head of chestnut curls and he froze.

_Fuck._ What the bloody hell was she doing there? Well, apart from the fact that the bookshop was Hermione's equivalent of Honeyduke's to a First Year… He couldn't be seen making this delivery, especially not by her! She'd be the first to question just what he was doing, and it sure as hell didn't help that Sirius' brain had just completely shut down, leaving him without a single good lie to tell her.

Just as he'd decided to duck out of sight and wait for her to leave, the brunette witch turned and saw him. Her eyes widened and she hesitantly raised her hand to wave a greeting. It was at that point that Sirius realized she was standing on the clerks' side of the counter. Before he could even think to wave back, she had scurried to the front door. He heard the lock click and the chime sound from within as she pulled the door open.

"Sirius? What are you - "

He winced and interrupted her by pushing his way in and quickly closing the door behind him with his back before she could broadcast his presence any more.

"Hi," he said, looking down at her surprised face. He felt something crumble inside of him at the sight of her flushed cheeks and bright brown eyes. How could he have stayed away for so long?

"Hey," she breathed, then cleared her throat. "Hi," she repeated with an uncertain smile.

An awkward silence stretched between them as they stood looking at each other. Finally Sirius forced himself to speak.

"You look - " he began.

"What are you doing here?" she asked at the same time.

_Beautiful,_ Sirius finished silently, his shoulders slumping as he remembered he was there on business. Taking a deep breath, he said the only thing he could. "I erm – I'm here to speak to the assistant manager."

Hermione's smile was tinged with confused skepticism, as if she wasn't sure if Sirius was having her on. "I – I am the assistant manager," she replied.

Sirius frowned. "Is there another one?"

"No-o," came her answer, patient but still confused.

_Well, isn't this a fine discovery,_ Sirius thought, as he caught her glancing at her watch. Rolling his eyes at the ludicrous situation, he sighed. "I have a delivery for the assistant manager," he said, pulling the package from his pocket.

Hermione looked stricken as she realized what he was actually doing there. Then she blinked and looked away, stepping back several feet. "Oh," she said softly. "I see. Yes – that would be for me. Thank you." She didn't look at him as she took the package from him.

Another more uncomfortable silence fell between them, with Sirius lingering with his back to the door and Hermione fidgeting with the corner of the package. Suddenly realizing how this all must have looked to her, Sirius kicked himself mentally.

"Can I buy you dinner?" he blurted, then cursed inwardly. _Smooth, Padfoot – really smooth._

Hermione looked up at him then with a small, tight smile. She shook her head with a short laugh. "You don't need to do this, Sirius. Really."

"Need to do what?" he asked dumbly.

"The whole consolation thing," came her flippant reply as she dropped her shoulders and walked over to the counter to set the package down next to her purse and coat.

_Okay, I deserve that,_ Sirius thought, taking a deep breath. He refused to be deterred, however, or to screw this up by arguing with her again. Walking over to where she was rearranging various bins on the counter, he pulled the scrap of parchment with her address on it from his pocket and set it on the counter before her.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, Hermione," he said quietly. "But I was on my way to see you anyway."

She stopped what she was doing and looked at Harry's scrawl before looking up at Sirius. She seemed to consider this for a moment. "I can't," she said finally, then quickly added, "Not tonight, anyway. It's Remus and Tonks' anniversary, and I promised I'd watch Teddy for them."

Sirius let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. _Wait… anniversary?_ He let his eyes wander to the calendar on the wall behind Hermione and blinked in surprise. She caught this and burst out laughing.

"That busy with the new job?" she asked sympathetically, although her eyes twinkled with amusement.

It was that simple, familiar teasing that finally broke through the ice.

"Merlin, I've missed you, woman," he suddenly admitted on a sigh. He raked a hand through his hair and leaned back against the counter, a tension he'd been unaware of melting from his frame.

"I've missed you, too," Hermione murmured, nudging his shoulder with hers. "But I'm not the only one, you know. You could join me and Teddy this evening… if you wanted."

It was an offer he couldn't refuse.

~o~

Hermione paused on the front doorstep of the Lupins' quaint cottage and smoothed her hands over her blouse and wool skirt. Thankfully, Sirius had needed to run a few errands before meeting her at Remus and Tonks' house. It had given her a chance to go home and change into what she hoped was an inconspicuous balance of attractive and casual attire.

"You look lovely," a warm, deep voice rumbled from behind her, causing her to jump in surprise.

Whirling around to find Sirius smiling down at her, Hermione faltered. In his leather jacket, black denim jeans, a long sleeved dark grey shirt, his hair perfectly tousled from the motorcycle ride over, he looked delicious. _So do you,_ she almost blurted, but fortunately caught herself.

Instead, she gave him a small smile. "I didn't hear you arrive," she said lamely.

"Well, that's good," Sirius murmured in a conspiratorial tone. "Because that means our little ward for the evening didn't hear me either. Here - " He handed her a medium-sized shopping bag. "That's for us, later."

Then he shifted, and before Hermione could say another word, there was a very large, black, glossy-coated dog sitting at her feet, looking up at her with an expectant grin. _If dogs could grin, that is…_ She couldn't help but smile back, realizing his intention as she raised her hand to knock on the door.

"Wotcher, Hermione!" Tonks greeted brightly as she swung open the door. Then her eyes fell on the giant beast at Hermione's side. She smirked and opened her mouth but was cut off by a very loud squeal from behind her.

"Pad-_fooht_!" Teddy shouted, running to the door as quickly as his little legs would take him.

Hermione laughingly stepped to the side to prevent herself from being bowled over by the boy as he tackled his 'uncle' in dog form.

"Well, isn't this a surprise," Tonks said, her voice filled with smugness as she grinned knowingly at Hermione. She took the bag from her as well and peered inside, letting out a low whistle. "Are you sure we can trust you two alone with our child?" she teased.

Rolling her eyes but unable to completely prevent that telling pull at the corners of her mouth, Hermione took the bag back from Tonks and headed to the kitchen. "I had to stay late at work tonight, so I didn't get a chance to grab dinner," she explained, adopting her swottiest tone. "Sirius was nice enough to pick something up for me, that's all."

Tonks raised an eyebrow and gave her a look that said she wasn't fooling anyone, but apparently she decided not to push the matter. "Teddy's already had his bath and supper," the Metamorphmagus began. "And I'm guessing since he has his Uncle Sirius here, he'll probably want to stay up later than normal, but don't let him stay up past nine. There's milk and biscuits for later, _if_ they behave."

Hermione chuckled at the 'they' part of Tonks' last statement. "Right. Biscuits for me and Teddy, then," she said with a nod.

"You've brought a friend, I see," Remus' said dryly from the kitchen doorway. His hair was still damp from the shower and he was buttoning up his shirt. Hermione grinned to herself as she caught sight of Tonks ogling the werewolf. As cynical as she tried to be about love, there would always be a tiny part of her that hoped one day to have a relationship half as special as theirs.

"Well, you know how I am about picking up mangy old strays," Hermione said with a laugh, making sure Padfoot was within earshot. A bark of protest came from the dining room, but was quickly drowned out by the sound of more romping and horseplay between the Animagus and the child.

Remus looked at her directly then, a gentle smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. "I know you'll be careful," he said, and Hermione was certain he was speaking of much more than the mess Sirius and Teddy were sure to make while they were gone.

"Just don't be _too_ careful," Tonks murmured to Hermione as they made their way to the door.

~o~

An hour and a half later, Hermione was seated in the dining room with Teddy, who had insisted on sitting at the 'grown-up table' for his milk and biscuits. Sirius, who had only changed out of his Grim form once to go to the loo, was curled up under the table, accepting pieces of Andromeda's double chocolate-chip biscuits from Teddy.

At first Hermione had felt the tiniest bit neglected when she'd realized Sirius wasn't going to shift back into his human form any time soon. But it didn't take long for her to realize he had a plan as he spent the greater part of their time chasing, being chased by, wrestling with, and playing pony to Remus and Tonks' son. She knew his strategy was to wear the boy out, and by the time eight-fifteen had rolled around, Teddy had become subdued and actually pushing on tired. Left to her own devices, Hermione would probably still have been trying to entertain him herself, and would have felt twice as drained as she already did. She wondered, not for the first time, how on earth Tonks and Remus did it.

"Now, you know you can't give chocolate to _real_ doggies, Teddy," Hermione reminded the boy, whose hair and eyes currently matched Sirius' with eerie accuracy.

"It makes them sick," he said with a solemn nod.

"Very," she agreed. "Do you know what doggies do eat?"

She rested her chin on her hand and let the toddler pop a piece of peanut butter cookie into her mouth. Padfoot shifted his large body around beneath the table, and she smiled as she felt him rest his big head between her bare feet.

As she half-listened to Teddy babble about what you could and couldn't feed to various animals, Hermione let her mind drift to lazily to the Animagus. Almost as if sensing this, she felt Padfoot nuzzle the side of his face against her ankle.

_His coat had gotten so soft since his return..._ It really felt more like the hair on his head now, she observed. It reminded her of the last time she'd run her fingers through those silky black waves. This in turn led her to recall their night together and the things he'd done to her. She shifted slightly, a slow warmth spreading through her insides like honey as detailed recollections flashed through her mind. He nuzzled her again - more of a caress this time - rubbing his head slowly along her calf and reminding her of _more_. Her lips parted with a silent sigh at the memory of his mouth and tongue and the exquisite sensations they'd inflicted on her body. A very tiny, oh so secret part of her wondered about his _other_ tongue…

A sudden thought popped into her head - a deep, dark, and very taboo secret Tonks had once confided after far too many drinks. Hermione felt her pulse quicken and her eyelids fluttered briefly, her legs parting ever so slightly as she felt something warm and moist trace a long, slow, tantalizing path along the inside of her knee. A soft, high-pitched whimper met her ears then, and her eyes flew wide open with the realization of what she was doing.

_Oh, GODS!_ Hermione thought frantically as she noisily pushed her chair back from the dining room table and jumped up, interrupting Teddy's exposition about rabbits and garden gnomes.

"Let me get you some more milk, sweetie," she said with a forced smile and strode into the kitchen as fast as she could.

She was standing over the kitchen sink, still trying to catch her breath, when Sirius came up behind her a few seconds later.

"Hermione Granger, you dirty little minx," he murmured hotly against her ear, winding his hands around her waist.

"_Pardon_ me?" she demanded, whirling around and backing away from him. "_You_ were the one - "

"Ah-ah-ah, love," Sirius interrupted with a teasing grin. "You forget that even for a mangy old stray, the nose knows," he said, tapping the side of his own nose.

Her face felt like she'd stuck it near a very hot fire as humiliation flooded her senses. Sirius must have noticed this, because he quickly dropped the teasing act.

"Hey, now," he said, holding up his hands and stepping towards her. "It's alright, princess – there's nothing wrong with that. In fact it was bloody hot. I mean, after all it's not real – I'm always still _me_, remember? C'mon - don't look like that, Hermione – really, it's more than okay…"

Unfortunately, his gentle acceptance was even more humiliating for her. Shaking her head miserably, she turned to the refrigerator to get out the bottle of milk. "Just drop it, okay? Let's just forget it happened."

"Why?" Sirius asked. When she didn't respond, he clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Hermione, I don't want to forget it. I _want_ to know what turns you on and off, what makes you happy and sad, what dirty little kinks you have hidden in that brilliant mind of yours… that's what couples _do_, they share these things and explore them together."

"Oh, so we're a couple now?" Hermione quipped, her eyebrows raised. Her tone was sharp and tinged with a bitter dose of reality that brought them both to a stop.

Sirius blinked several times, as if surprised he'd said those things himself. When he opened his mouth to answer her, however, he was interrupted by a tug on his shirt. They both looked down to see Teddy standing there, holding out his empty plate.

"Uncle Sirius, will you and Aunt Mynee read a story?" the little boy asked.

Crouching down as close to eye-level with Teddy as he could be, Sirius took his plate and smiled affectionately. "How about you and Aunt Hermione go on upstairs and get ready while I clean up these dishes, then you can pick out whatever story you like and we'll all read it together, yeah?"

With a pleased grin, Teddy grasped Hermione's hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom. By the time he was changed into his pajamas, his teeth brushed, his once-more royal blue hair neatly combed and his face washed, Sirius had joined them. He was looking over the impressive bookcase when Hermione and Teddy emerged from the bathroom.

"What'll it be, kiddo?" he asked, his hands shoved into his pockets and his head tilted as he continued reading through titles.

Teddy, apparently having already decided on a story, immediately went to the section of books that had been Hermione's gift to him as a baby. Two and a half shelves were completely filled with the children's volumes she'd gifted, both wizarding and Muggle stories alike. The books themselves wouldn't have been that remarkable, but for the charm cast on them to remain age-appropriate for the child who read them. He quickly found the one he was looking for and scampered to his bed, grinning up at them expectantly.

Catching sight of the book cover as Teddy handed it to Sirius, Hermione groaned inwardly. _Peter Pan, by J.M. Barrie._ She cringed as the older wizard read the title, his back and shoulders going tense. However, he merely raised an eyebrow and smirked at her before perching himself on the edge of the bed next to the boy and opening the book.

"Aunt Mynee, too," Teddy commanded gleefully, giving the spot on the other side of him an exaggerated pat.

Setting the large, brightly illustrated book on Teddy's lap so they could all see it, Sirius began to read in a warm, patient tone.

"_All children, except one, grow up…_"


	9. Chapter 9

~9~

Forty minutes later, they reached the simpler and happier, four-year-old-appropriate ending of the story of Peter Pan. Teddy had fallen asleep somewhere around the rescue of the Indian princess, but it was apparently considered bad luck, or at least bad form, to not finish the story anyway.

Sirius and Hermione crept out of the room, not making a sound until the one-way muffling charm was cast, allowing them to hear if Teddy made any noises, but letting him sleep undisturbed.

As they made their way downstairs, Sirius immediately started teasing Hermione. "Well, you do a nice enough Wendy, but I must say, your Tinkerbell was absolutely remarkable," he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"What, I get nothing for my performance of Smee?" Hermione threw back in mock indignation. "But of course, _nothing_ can compare to your Hook," she added, neatly sidestepping the whole awkward issue of the story itself.

Anything else she was going to say was forgotten as soon as she pushed through the dining room door. Stopping in her tracks, Hermione let out a small _'Oh!'_ of surprise. The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight coming from several long, thin tapers. An elegant but intimate dinner was laid out before her on the Lupins' table, replete with two long-stemmed roses, crystal settings, fine linen she thought she recognized from the Black manor, and the faint strains of soothing music coming from the wireless. Looking closer, Hermione realized that Sirius had picked up dinner from her favourite Muggle Italian restaurant and charmed it to stay fresh while they had watched Teddy.

She supposed it might not have been the most original idea a wizard could have had for "romance" – perhaps some would say it was even a bit cheesy. But no one had ever gone to such lengths for her before. Truthfully, the only wizard who had ever even given her flowers was Viktor, and that had just been her corsage for the Yule Ball.

A warm hand pressed gently at the small of her back. "I know this isn't exactly a 'date'," Sirius rumbled, "but I thought - "

Hermione whirled around and cut him off by impulsively planting a kiss on his cheek. His eyebrows shot up briefly and an uncertain smile played across his features as his hand came up to touch the spot where her lips had been. She merely smirked vaguely and walked over to the table.

Apart from their "inappropriate" little exchange under the table earlier, that kiss was the first sign Hermione had given of anything other than platonic tolerance since Sirius had showed up at Flourish and Blotts that afternoon. It had been a bit of a cold splash in the face when she'd made the sarcastic and not entirely uncalled for retort about them being a couple now. After all, he knew he'd given her no reason to believe they were anything more than friends who had fucked. Despite everything he'd tried to show her of his feelings that night, his behaviour since then had likely demolished all of his good work. And Hermione Granger was hardly the kind of witch to wait around for him to pull his head out of his arse. She wasn't going to make this easy for him – it wasn't in her nature to, and that was one of the many things that drew him to her and made it impossible to just let her go after a month and a half of silence.

That one kiss, though – it was hope, a small indication that perhaps he hadn't let this whole thing die from his neglect. It was just a peck on the cheek, but Sirius saw it as encouragement to continue into these unfamiliar waters of properly romancing the brilliant young witch. He could do this – he might not have that much experience with actually _dating_ (as opposed to just shagging), but perhaps his parents hadn't put him and Reg through the hell of etiquette lessons for nothing…

Licking his lips, Sirius moved to pull back Hermione's chair, unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap once she was seated. She gave him a teasing half-grin that didn't quite mask her own pleasure as he helped scoot her in to the table.

"This looks absolutely lovely, Sirius," she said genuinely. "Thank you."

"Least I could do," he murmured as he filled her glass with a "fine red" – it was actually one of several bottles he'd discovered in a back corner of the cellar in his family home. He'd nearly chucked them out of sheer hatred for the man who'd originally purchased them. Remus had stopped him, however, pointing out that it was merely elfin wine, and exceptionally good years, too. '_Pouring out a priceless vintage isn't going to accomplish anything except making you look like a petulant child, Pads,_' his friend had lectured. Not that the werewolf was biased, of course. He always did prefer wine to whiskey, and had apparently become a bit of an aficionado over the years. Sirius had given most of the bottles to him then, keeping a couple for himself just in case he _did_ feel the overwhelming urge to take out his temper on them. Now, however – he could think of no better way to thumb his nose at the past than by enjoying the fine drink with this beautiful, intelligent, and sexy Muggle-born.

Settling down into his own chair, Sirius froze as a soft moan came from the pretty witch across the table. The sound went straight to his groin, and he swallowed hard. Looking up, he saw her face a mask of pleasure, her eyes closed, fork slowly sliding out from between those two luscious lips. _Down, boy,_ he thought with amusement.

"That good?" he asked teasingly, although he knew the answer – he couldn't argue that Hermione's favourite dish of lobster stuffed ravioli from _Fellini's_ was a bit of culinary bliss. But _dear Merlin,_ if she continued making those little noises, he wasn't sure he'd know what to do with himself…

"Mm, heavenly," Hermione murmured, taking a sip of her wine. "I was starving," she added.

Sirius took a bite of his own food, unable to help the small groan that escaped as his taste buds were overcome by the rich dish. They ate in blissful silence for a few minutes before he decided to plunge headfirst into the topic that seemed most important for the evening.

"So tell me," he began, lazily swirling the red liquid around in his wine glass. "Suppose Peter Pan _had_ grown up – do you think Wendy would still have left Neverland?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone. It was a ridiculous way of putting things, he knew – it was just a children's book, after all. But it also seemed painfully appropriate.

Hermione put down her fork and looked at him almost apprehensively. "Wendy didn't leave Neverland because of Peter, Sirius," she answered softly. Then, letting out a quiet laugh, she shook her head and looked down at her plate. "It's a stupid analogy anyway – the book isn't even about that, really," she added.

Forging ahead, Sirius argued, "Oh, I think it's a rather brilliant analogy, actually. After all, Pan was an arrogant, cocky, self-centered child who pretty much abandoned Wendy for her decision to grow up, right?"

Hermione gave him a startled look, clearly surprised that he had, in fact, read the original version of the story before that night.

"I'm sorry I reacted so poorly," he said finally, his voice firm but sincere. "You deserve so much better than that, Hermione. And I know it's not enough to simply say I'm sorry, but I was hoping you might give me a second chance to make things right through actions as well."

_There,_ he thought nervously as he took a swig of wine. He'd manned up and said his piece, and what happened next was up to her –

"But…_why_ did you react that way?" Hermione asked in a tone that was neither demanding nor accusatory. "I mean, I'll admit it was utterly dismal timing on my part, making that decision when I did. But you know I wasn't rejecting _you_, right? So surely this isn't all about me…"

Sirius sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. _So much for the ball being in her court…_

"Not exactly," he admitted uncomfortably. "I know you weren't rejecting me, love. Honestly, it took me a while to figure out 'why,' myself."

He glanced up to see her watching him expectantly. No, Hermione Granger sure as hell didn't make things easy. Taking a deep breath, he began to explain. "Look – technically, I'm old enough to be your father, pet. And yet you're one of the most mature, brilliant, put-together people I know - far more mature and put-together than I am. And just when I'd finally managed to capture you for myself, you up and left, announcing that _you_ needed to grow up!" He let out an incredulous chuckle and shook his head, but his grin quickly faded. "I suppose it just made me realize what a useless old hack I really am."

"You're not," Hermione argued.

"No?" Sirius laughed bitterly. "I missed the war, Hermione. I missed the war, I missed out on being there for Harry, I – I missed _everything._ And instead of making up for that, what have I done? I've spent the past thirteen months behaving like a self-entitled, self-serving, adolescent jerk, contributing absolutely nothing of benefit other than a good party now and then."

"You honestly believe that?" she asked quietly. When he didn't immediately answer, she shook her head. "Alright, fine - so you weren't here for war. But you also weren't here to witness the fallout immediately afterwards. We all lost so much – less than we could have, granted. But for some of us, having spent most of our youth battling or preparing to face Voldemort, once it was over, we didn't know what to do. Especially Ron, Harry, and myself.

"We all just sort of dissolved for a while there – I don't think any of us knew how to just live normal lives after all of that, particularly Harry." Hermione continued. "But when you returned, Sirius – it was like someone flipped a switch in him, and it spread throughout the rest of us, too. Somehow, you pulled us all back together again, and reminded us how to simply enjoy life and not take everything so seriously."

Sirius merely looked at her, somewhat skeptical. Hermione seemed to notice this and flashed him a grin. "Not that getting a job and behaving responsibly is necessarily a bad thing," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Although, I take it you're not supposed to talk about that."

"Neither are you," he replied with a smirk. "Besides, you're not answering my question."

"Oh, there was a _question_ in there?" Hermione asked wryly.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius rephrased it. "Will you give this a second chance, Hermione? Look – what happened between us that night – I know what it looks like. But I never intended to take things that fast. And I know we're both shite at this, but - "

"It seems to me that we never really took our first chance," she interrupted, a careful smile flickering across her face.

Sirius took a deep breath and exhaled, giving her a nod of understanding in response. "Right," he said, feeling that awkward peace of having taken a step in a new and unfamiliar direction.

"And what's this '_we're both_ shite at this' nonsense?" she added teasingly, picking up her fork again and spearing a ravioli. "Is there a pygmy puff in your pocket, Black?"

"That's not the way I've usually heard it put, princess," he threw back.

Hermione hummed. "I'm sure many witches have mistaken your wand for something altogether less impressive…"

"Oi! I didn't hear you complain," he protested, then grimaced as he realized that even if they weren't joking, he couldn't have 'heard' her that night in any case.

Raising her eyebrows, she looked at him in disbelief. "You left that wide open, didn't you?"

"Yeah, well, you threw me off," Sirius grumbled.

"So sorry," she replied with a grin.

"There _was_ crème brulee for dessert, but now I'm not so sure," he muttered petulantly.

"Mm, my favourite. Let me make it up to you?" Hermione asked sweetly before taking another bite of her dinner.

"Depends on how," he purred, his eyes narrowing as they watched that damned fork slowly glide from between her lips again. When her tongue darted out to run across her upper lip, he nearly groaned. Going slow and being 'properly romantic' was going to be even harder than he thought.

After they'd cleared the dishes and packed away the leftovers from dinner, they adjourned to the Lupins' living room with two small dishes of crème brulee, the sugar crust kept warm by the same stasis charm as their dinner. Sirius finished his first, then, setting his empty dish on the coffee table, he pulled Hermione's bare feet into his lap.

An involuntary moan escaped her lips as his thumbs slowly kneaded into one of her arches.

He smiled sinfully at her. "Love all those little sounds you make," he murmured. "It definitely was the down side to how I went about things that night."

Hermione blushed and swallowed a last spoonful of the sweet custard. "I don't make _that_ many soun- _oh!_" she broke off on a sigh, her eyes closing and her spoon clattering in her dish. _The things that man was doing to her feet…_

"Mm-hm," she heard Sirius hum as he took the dish from her and set it on the coffee table next to his own. Still caressing and working her feet, he shifted to a more comfortable position, facing her with his legs running alongside hers. She could feel the warmth of that space between his thighs, and she tensed slightly, trying not to brush against him with her feet.

"Relax your legs, pet," he commanded, easing the foot he wasn't currently massaging into that very area she was trying to avoid.

_It's not as though we haven't already done more…_ Hermione thought to herself with a deep breath, melting into his touch once more. Her instep, toes, heel, the top of her foot, and up her ankle – Sirius paid loving attention all the way up her calf to the back of her knee, his knuckles brushing the back of her thigh before making his descent back down her leg.

"Good?" he asked softly, running his fingers lightly over the top of that foot.

"Heavenly," she moaned and shifted, letting him set to work on the other.

Once he reached her other knee, Sirius lightly raked his nails down both her legs, causing her toes to curl in pleasure. In so doing, she managed to brush against the now hard bulge in his jeans. They both jumped slightly, but he held her legs in place, still soothing and smoothing over her bare flesh as if to calm her. Her awareness of him in that moment sent a wave of heat through her senses. Slowly opening her eyes, Hermione met Sirius' dark gaze and swallowed.

She knew she shouldn't – if for no other reason than because they were on their friends' couch and supposed to be watching their child. Never mind that whole concept of "taking it slowly." But the hunger in his look and the memories of that night together seemed to guide her actions as she deliberately curled her feet against him. He inhaled sharply, his eyelids fluttering and his fingers tightening around her calves as she gently kneaded him.

"Kitten…" Sirius growled thickly. Rather than just stopping her, though, he pulled her to him, dropping a leg to the floor just long enough for her to swing her body around and lay flush over him. She could feel his erection pressing against her abdomen, her breasts crushed against his chest as she shifted over him slightly and raised her head.

Hermione expected him to kiss her, their lips crashing together in an outburst of sexual tension and too long being apart. Instead, he smoothed her unruly curls back from her face and looked at her.

"How long before they're home?" he asked in a ragged tone as his other hand slid around her waist and began rubbing slow circles into her back.

"Not till two or three, I think," she answered with a shrug, her insides fluttering with apprehension and want.

Sirius let out a frustrated exhale. "Then I need you to _behave_, witch," he said tightly. "Because not only would it ruin my every good intention, but Moony has this rather appalling ability to – to _smell_ if someone's… well…"

"I understand," Hermione interrupted, somewhat horrified. It made perfect sense, of course, but it was hardly something she really wanted to think on or be aware of.

"Good," Sirius said. "Thank you. Now just lay here and be nice, hm?"

Hermione let her head drop, her cheek resting against his chest, just above his heart. She inhaled and closed her eyes, letting the smell of leather, spice, and lavender shampoo fill her senses. She fought the urge to explore the exposed skin of his neck, just inches from her mouth. Instead, she focused on the warm hands that were rubbing slow, innocent circles over her back and shoulders.

After a while, though, even those movements were filled with too much heat, his touch possessive and filled with an intimate familiarity of her body. Hermione sighed against Sirius' neck, running her hands along his sides and over his shoulders until they were buried in his jet-black hair. He didn't protest this time as she moved against him, her lips nuzzling the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

His breathing had become just as labored as hers, intentionally long and heavy with forced restraint. That same deliberate restraint kept his hands moving in a constant rhythm - over her back and up to her shoulders, then back down again, cradling her to him as she tasted a path to his jaw line. When she finally reached his mouth, their kiss was achingly slow, a dance of lips and tongues that was slow and dusky and sweet as cold, dark honey.

When she broke away, Sirius nipped gently at her bottom lip before whispering against her mouth, "I shall have to punish you for this, you know."

Hermione merely hummed lazily in response, moving against him with a drugged sort of heat. She knew they needed to stop, and when Sirius bucked his hips against her, that hard bulge trapped in denim brought her to her senses just enough to do so.

"Sorry," she said ruefully, sighing and pushing against his shoulders so she could move off of him.

Sirius had other ideas, however. "Where do you think you're going?" he growled, wrapping his arms around her to keep her in place.

"I'm _trying_ to behave," she retorted, wiggling against him to free herself.

"Fuck!" Sirius hissed, grabbing her hips and holding her still. "That's _not_ helping, princess."

"Well, let me up, then!" she laughingly protested.

"No, no – I have to punish you, see," he purred against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "And I think the punishment should always suit the crime."

"Is that so?" Hermione breathed, gasping as Sirius' teeth grazed her earlobe and dipped down to nip sharply at a sensitive spot on her neck.

"Mm-hmm. So… you will… stay put," he explained between nibbles and kisses. "And _behave_ yourself," he added, leaving a stinging sharp little bite on her shoulder to make his point.

"And in the meantime you'll do what? Torture us both?" she asked. "Doesn't that defeat your whole punishment?"

"No," Sirius answered patiently. "In the meantime, I will read a book."

Hermione jerked her head up with a frown of disbelief. "You can't be – 'read a book'? Are you mental, and what kind of a book?"

But Sirius had already grabbed his wand from the coffee table and _Accio'ed_ the book of his choice from the Lupins' expansive library.

"Now," he said, catching the tome neatly in his hand. "You can either lay there and suffer in bored silence, or, if you're good, I will read aloud to you until my dear cousin and her husband return, or until we both fall asleep. Deal?"

She was still looking at him as if he'd grown another head and had started speaking Mermish. Not having any better ideas, however, Hermione gave a slow nod.

"Brilliant," Sirius said crisply, adopting a schoolteacher like tone. "Comfortable?" he asked. When Hermione gave another nod, he levitated the book above them and behind her head where he could read it, charming it to stay open to the correct pages on his command. Then, his warm, deep voice rumbled the beginning lines of a very old story.

~o~

At two thirty-five in the morning, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin Apparated just outside the front gate of their fenced-in yard so as not to disturb any sleeping children or babysitters inside. While Remus picked up a few stray toys left outside by their son, Dora went ahead, walking with a silent grace that she only ever managed to have in the comfort and familiarity of their home. Remus watched as his wife slowly opened the front door and peered inside before covering her mouth and closing it again.

_Oh, no… Pads, you idiot…_ he thought irritably. _If that mangy old cur…_ "What did he do," Remus snarled in a whisper, striding over to the porch.

Dora turned to him and shook her head as she lowered her hand. She was biting her lip against a grin so hard he thought she would burst any second. He gave a questioning shrug and waited. Holding a finger to her lips, she carefully pushed the door open again and let him peek inside.

There, on their living room couch, Sirius Black lay fast asleep, his face partially obscured by a head of wild brown curls, and his arms wrapped possessively around the witch laying partly atop him. Hermione Granger was also asleep, her face buried in the crook of Sirius' neck. An open book rested on her shoulder, evidently having landed there when Sirius had nodded off from reading.

Remus looked at his wife with a smirk before creeping into their home on silent feet. While Dora went straightaway to the loo, he carefully retrieved from the couple on the couch what he saw now to be one of the "_Compleate and Annotated_" volumes of fairy tales purchased by Andromeda as an 'heirloom gift' for Teddy's library. Neither Sirius nor Hermione so much as shifted. Remus looked at the cover and rolled his eyes, heading in to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate before going to bed. When Dora returned from the bathroom, he held up the front of the book for her. Seeing the title, she snorted and covered her mouth with her hand again.

Setting the copy of _Peter Pan_ down on the counter with a sigh, he regarded his wife, who had predicted this relationship several months ago. "What do you suppose will happen now that the Pan has decided to grow up?" he asked wryly.

"Well," Dora answered, not looking up from her task of dropping marshmallows into the four steaming cups of cocoa on the counter. "I imagine he and Wendy will simply have countless _adult_ adventures together, instead."

* * *

**_AN: Many, many thanks to all of you who left such lovely reviews - this is officially my most-reviewed story to date! I hope the ending wasn't too dangly, but really since this is essentially a story of how two people finally began a relationship, I had to end it somewhere, and "riding off into the sunset" seemed appropriate. I suppose I could go on and on with nothing but smut and fluff and a dash of fanciful high-tech magic projects, but I have The Wait to get back to, as well as a dozen or more other plotlines floating around here (*cough* and you can always check out my other stories too, if you haven't already!). I hope you enjoyed and many thanks again! _**

**_-pelespen_**


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